When Grace is Gone
by Paranormal-Paradigm
Summary: Grace Everlowe's life is uprooted when she starts to show the beginning stages of vampirism. She is thrust into Lyle house and the lives of its residents. Ultimately the Edison Group wipes her and the memory of her when things go terribly wrong.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one: Impulses

I couldn't see. My throat was on fire, all I wanted to do was sink my teeth into the neck of that cheerleader sitting in front of me.

She was tan, the soft skin of her neck stretched at a tempting tilt. Her light blonde hair was tied up in a high pony tail revealing her neck, a faint blue line glowing just beneath the surface. A small growl bubbled up from my throat and made it all the way to my lips before I choked it down.

The bell rang and I let out a sigh of relief. Hanging my head, I waited for the rest of the class to depart before following.

"Grace, would you come here for a minute please? Miss Everlowe?"

_Shoot! Almost made it, _I thought. I turned around and resigned myself to another five minutes of resisting the urge to attack someone.

"Grace, you were my best student. You were early every day, attentive, polite, always got the best scores on your tests..."

"I know; your continued use of the past tense is noted."

"I'm glad you noticed _something _in my class today," Mr. Ambrose said pointedly.

"I'm sorry, I've just been..." _turning to a vampire lately it seems, but I know that's not possible, so I've been trying to hide the fact that I'm going insane, so I don't get locked up in some nut house. _"Busy."

"If you need to talk to somebody, you know where my office is. And...I need to ask, Grace, are you on anything? It's just, during the entire class you looked like you were jonesing."

"No, I'm not using. No alcohol either." _Just blood, that's all. Nothing to worry about._

"What are you 'busy' with?"

"Just..." I had to come up with something believable fast. "Okay...m-maybe I just tried some weed once. I-I did-didn't know what it was I swear!"

"Grace, you know you're a sucky liar, right?" Mr. Ambrose was the only adult I knew that used the word sucky.

"I know. I admit it, I knew what it was. I knew it was weed. And I didn't just use it once."

"You're _still _a terrible liar. What could be so terrible that you'd lie about using drugs?"

"I've been hung-over in class every day, and I was scared you'd boot me out?"

"You're not a sucky liar, you're an _atrocious _liar. In fact, I don't even consider this lying anymore."

"It's not bad, just...embarrassing. I don't feel comfortable discussing it with...a guy." I crossed my fingers in my pockets, hoping against hope that he wouldn't notice that I'd lied about it not being bad. It was embarrassing, and I didn't feel comfortable discussing it with a guy...or a girl, but that was beside the point.

"Perhaps the school psychologist?" he suggested. I raised my eyebrows at him.

Mr. Ambrose was my favorite teacher by far, I enjoyed talking to him. He liked me because I was the only student who would actually have debates with him. He knew me well enough to know that a psychologist and I being in the same room would _not _be a good idea. I would argue with everything she said and end up wasting the whole session trying to _avoid _talking about me.

"Alright, maybe _not _the therapist, your sister?"

"My sister and I are kind of in the middle of ongoing argument."

"Oh, I'm sorry, what's the argument about?"

"She's got a new boyfriend. _Remy." _I spat the name out with contempt.

"I take it you're not too fond of this Remy?"

"Ha, he drives his motorcycle without a helmet _with _my sister clutching at his abs. He gave her a tattoo the other day with pen ink and a sewing needle! He's been to prison _three _times, violated his parole twice. And he's _stupid! _My sister's dating a dimwit!"

"Maybe this could be why you're having trouble in class?"

"Maybe." I figured that this noncommittal answer was better than having to fib to the human polygraph.

"Okay then, you'd best get some food in you. You're probably starving by now."

"No, just thirsty." The thought of solid food made my stomach churn.

I started toward the door again when Mr. Ambrose added one more thing.

"Grace, if you want me to, I could remind Angelica that as your legal guardian she is responsible for you."

"No, but thanks. The last thing I want is Gel hovering over me saying that it's my own fault and that I never should have told you about something that wasn't even_ my _business. Thanks for the talk Mr. Ambrose. Bye."

"Goodbye Grace."

I went through the door and as soon as I heard it shut behind me I sprinted toward my car, a black Beemer. My skin felt like it was burning; it always did when I went out in the sun. When I got in the car I took off my belt and folded it in half before stuffing it in my mouth. There must have been a dozen teeth marks in this one by now. I got out my Swiss army knife and flicked the blade out. In one quick motion I jabbed it into my wrist leaving a small puncture wound about an inch deep and as long as a penny is wide. My eyes watered from the pain as I hurriedly took the leather from my jaws.

The taste got better every time. The salty red liquid gushed from the cut into my mouth, and dripped down my throat until I blacked out.

"_Mom look! Look, there's a deer," I shouted excitedly_

"_Yeah, we see them all time here G."_

"_I know Gel, but look at that one, she's got three fawns."_

"_Yup, she's got three damn fawns, go her."_

"_Angelica! Just because you're almost eighteen now doesn't mean that your sister is old enough to be exposed to that kind of language." Mom was giving Gel the 'you'd better do what I say, young lady' glare in the rearview mirror._

"_Then let me out of this little hellhole you call a car. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. I'm gonna keep saying it until you let me out. Damn, damn, damn…"_

"_Gel, please don't. We can play a game, something to take your mind off the traveling," I pleaded with her._

"_Ange, play with your sister, we're going to see Gran and that's that. As long as you're living with this family you're going to abide by our rules." Dad was turned around in the passenger seat trying look at Gel._

"_Okay," she said ruffling my hair. "Sorry G, Whada ya wanna play?"_

"_Hmm...Twenty questions?" I asked, trying to please my older sister._

"_Alright, you think of an animal, vegetable, or mineral._

"_You're right Mom and Dad; I need to get my own place. I love you, but I need to get out."_

"_Love you too sweetie, but we agree, you need to get out," Dad said, both he and Mom were smiling. We all laughed._

"_Mom! The deer!"_

"_What about the de-"_

_The car swerved and..._

My eyes opened slowly as I woke up. My cheeks were wet with saltwater. I looked down to find that my shirt was soaked with blood. I grabbed my hoodie and zipped it up to my neck, covering the stain. Looking in the mirror, I saw there were crimson splotches all over my face too. I rubbed them off and looked at the dashboard. Twelve-twenty-six, there were four minutes of lunch left; I still had time to slip into the next classroom before anyone noticed.

I hurried into biology and took my seat. A fairly muscular red-haired senior sat in front of me this time. He was pale, every vein and artery clearly visible. His carotid was practically screaming "bite me!"

I couldn't take it anymore, if I didn't get out of there soon I was going to hurt someone. I grabbed my escape out of my pocket and shoved a mento in my mouth. The effect was immediate. My body's reaction to the solid food made me gag and vomit all over the floor next to me.

Half the class jumped up from their seats and got as far away as possible from the red mass of slime.

"I- I think I need to go to the nurse," I choked out.

"I think you're right Miss Everlowe. Take a partner and see Nurse Howard immediately."

"I know my way around, I'll be fine." And before she could object, I slipped out the door and into the hallway.

"Hey Honey, where ya goin' so fast?" Grady Louder was the single most obnoxious male on the entire planet, but also one of the most attractive. His bad boy attitude and flirtatious manner got him a lot, and his looks got him everything else. All the girls in the school liked him except me, but I was the only one he had eyes for. I detested Grady, and he saw it as a challenge.

"Nurses office, I just puked all over the classroom floor. Wanna go see?"

"Yeah, right. You're just trying to get rid of me. I know you didn't- oh." He scrunched up his nose and held his breath.

"Told you. But did you listen? No. Kind of like I keep telling you that I'm not interested. But do you listen? Much to my dismay, no. Maybe you should take note of what I say once in a while."

"May I be your escort?"

"No, you may not," I quipped.

"Oh, come on, Gracie. Just give me chance." He shoved his hands down my back pockets and I stiffened.

"You_ will _remove your hands before I count to three. One..."

"You don't mean that."

"Two...Better hurry." He pressed his lips to the back of my neck, just below my ear. I didn't even bother to say three. I whipped around and grabbed his larynx. I thrust him against the lockers.

The taste of his blood was better than anything I could have imagined. It coated my teeth and rolled over my tongue. I tried to savor the taste, but I kept gulping it, not able to slow down.

Four pairs of arms were trying to pull me off Grady, but to no avail. There were ten people grabbing and tugging at me before I couldn't hold on to him any longer.

As they wrenched me away from the now unconscious boy, I let out an inhuman snarl. My restrainers forced me down onto a cot and I felt something hard, sharp, and cold slide into my skin. A sedative, I decided as I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

"G? G, are you awake?"

"No," I moaned when I heard my sister's voice through the tired fog that the tranquilizer left behind.

"Don't...Don't be startled when you look around you, ok?"

"What? Where am I? What did you do?" My eyes shot open to reveal that I was lying in a bright room; not a hospital room, I realized. It was a normal bedroom, only vacant of anything personal. It looked somewhat like a cheery hotel room.

Have you ever noticed that whenever anyone says something like "don't panic" or "don't worry" or "_Don't be startled when you look around you" _it has the opposite effect, and you just freak out twice as much as you would have before anybody said something about it?

"It- You're at a place called Lyle House, it's for kids like you, G."

"Kids like me?" I asked, wary. Then the events from the day before came flooding back, and I wished they'd given me another sedative. "Is Grady alright?" I said instead, disregarding my last question, I knew the answer now. Kids like me...psychos.

"He'll be fine. He'll need a few transfusions, but other than that..."

"Kill me," I whimpered.

"G, don't say that. He'll be fine."

"I won't, I'll never be able to go back there again. I'm a freak," I stated simply.

"G..." Gel pleaded. "I'm begging you; just try this for a while."

"What exactly is _this_?" I inquired.

"Here at Lyle House they diagnose your...illness. Then they make you better so you can come back to me."

"Fine, whatever." I didn't want to talk to her just then.

"G, I can't...I have to leave now; its part of the adjustment system they have, I can't visit you for a while, ok?"

"Fine, whatever, Gel." I barely heard her; only one thing kept running through my mind.

_I'm crazy, I'm crazy, I'm crazy, I'm crazy, I'm crazy, I'm crazy, I'm crazy. I'm crazy, I'm crazy._

"Bye, G. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Fine, whatever." The door clicked shut behind my sister and I was alone in the too-cheerful-for-a-nuthouse room.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Transition

After about ten minutes of processing everything that had happened, there was a knock on my door.

"Grace? My name is Mrs. Talbot. I just wanted to let you know it's dinner time, come on down."

I got up slowly and stepped toward the stairs. Right, left, right, left, right, left. My brain had shut down, not even my lungs were on autopilot anymore. I had to make myself breathe, I had to make myself walk, I had to make myself _blink._

I pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, hardly noticing the other kids around me.

"Gracie, would you like milk or water, dear?" Mrs. Talbot asked me.

"Grace," I corrected. I'd attacked the last person who'd called me Gracie. I hated that name; Grady was the only one who called me Gracie.

"Milk or water, honey?" I shook my head.

"Neither. Nothing to drink, nothing to eat…please. I'm not hungry. Please do not call me honey. Grady called me honey." Mrs. Talbot sighed.

"Alright Grace, but only because it's your first day, tomorrow you'll be eating the food."

_Okay, as long as you clean up the barf,_ I thought.

"If you're not hungry why did you even come down?" said a loud, high voice from across the table. I lifted my gaze to see a girl about a year or two older than me, maybe sixteen or seventeen. She had short black hair and kept glancing surreptitiously at the good looking boy sitting next to me.

He had dark blonde hair and looked part…Chinese, possibly? I looked at the others sitting around the dinner table.

On the opposite side of the table there was a copper skinned girl with long dark curls. One boy looked younger and was playing a game boy or a PSP. Then there was the snotty girl who'd asked me why I came down. Then a smiling blonde girl with bright eyes. On my side there was me, then the Asian looking boy, and then…I swallowed. The boy sitting in that seat had to be over six feet tall when he stood up. He had shoulders as wide as a door frame, and dark greasy hair that hung in his face and obscured his bright green eyes. Those eyes, I couldn't stop staring at him. When I brought my gaze back to look at his whole face I realized that it was covered with acne. Zits, black heads, you name it, it was there. I also realized that he was staring straight at me. I quickly turned away, embarrassed.

"Watch out Derek, she's sizing up her prey." I whipped my head toward the speaker. It was snotty girl again. Did she know? Surely, they had confidentiality rules here.

"You've known her for three seconds, and you're already antagonizing her, Tori?" said Asian Looking Boy.

"You didn't know, Simon? Grace is a vampire." I choked on my own saliva. Yes, she defiantly knew, but how?

"Really? Awesome." The younger boy with the game looked up and gave me a look of quiet approval.

"No," I started to protest. "I'm not- I don't-" The Asian Looking Boy, apparently his name was Simon, put his hand on my shoulder. I flinched away.

"I'm sorry Grace, Tori's just being her malevolent, ridiculing self." He gave her a warning look. By her expression, you'd think that Simon had just stabbed her in back.

"No, I just… I thought- I thought it was cool. I mean, I just thought that everyone else would think it was cool too…I-" She sighed and snapped her teeth together abruptly, willing her mouth to quit rambling excuses.

"S'fine, it doesn't matter anyway," I lied. With any luck, I'd be diagnosed and freed by the end of the week; but my luck was never good before, it was foolish to think it would change _now._

"Is everyone finished with dinner?" Mrs. Talbot poked her head in from the kitchen. Everyone mumbled "yes."

"Alright, Grace you have a session with Dr. Gill before bed, everyone else has a few hours of free time." I thought it ironic that they called it "free time." There was nothing even remotely resembling freedom in this place.

Everyone got up from the table and left the room; everyone except me.

"Um, Mrs. Talbot, can you tell me who Dr. Gill is?" I asked a little confused.

"Of course, Dr. Gill is the psychiatrist here." My stomach clenched. I guess I should have just assumed there'd be a therapist, but I hadn't really thought about it. "Her office is just down the hall, go ahead and let yourself in."

I stopped in front of the door and swallowed. I hated the idea of talking about my problems to a complete stranger. Sure, at a sleepover I'd play truth or dare and share my deep dark secrets, but no one at that sleepover is keeping a personal record of everything I say and writing notes about what the words between the lines were. Plus, I seriously doubted that Dr. Gill was going to giggle and squeal and share some embarrassing secret of her own.

"Oh," Dr. Gill said as she opened the door. "You must be Grace; I was just looking for you. Come in." I hesitantly stepped through door and sat down in the chair across from the desk. "I just wanted to introduce myself and make sure that you know you can tell me anything." I didn't say anything. "Grace, you're here because you…" She looked my file and paled a bit. "You," her voice broke and she cleared her throat. "attacked a fellow student at your school."

"I know that's not why I'm here. It's not what I did; it's how I did it."

"I- well, yes. Grace, do you… do you think you're a vampire?"

"I know I feel like one," I said blankly. "I also know that there's no such thing as vampires. I'm just insane." On the last word, I raised my eyebrows and widened my eyes briefly, looking crazy. I was making a lame attempt at a joke. All I did, though, was alarm her a bit.

"We try to avoid words such as insane and crazy."

"How 'bout psycho? It's what I am, I know that. I'm fine with calling it what it is."

"You are not psycho, Grace. We believe you have acute porphyria, it's a genetic disorder. You have sensitivity to light, yes?" I nodded. "Newfound allergy to garlic?" I nodded again. I was uncomfortable with how much she already knew about me. "We'll have to do a few tests to be positive, of course, but I'm fairly confident about my diagnosis."

"You can fix me?" Finally some hope, I was wondering when that would come along.

"No, it's treatable, but not curable." And there went my long awaited hope.

"Question, why am I here, and not in a hospital? It seems like they could take better care of me there."

"What with…your incident…we feel that is important to keep you under close observation to be sure that it has not affected your mind in the long run."

"My incident? Oh, you mean the fact that I sunk my teeth into Grady Louder's jugular and drank in his blood, and then snarled and snapped at the ten people it took pull me off him?" I clarified. Dr. Gill's jaw tightened and, if possible, she went even paler. "You didn't know the details," I realized aloud. I reverted back to my emotionless, nearly vegetative state.

"No, I didn't. It must have been adrenaline that made you strong. It must have been adrenaline."

"Are we done?" I asked solemnly. She nodded, looking out the window of her office.

"Oh, no. Wait." She held out a small black bag toward me. I opened it; there was a small bottle and a syringe inside. "Twice a week, once tonight and once in three days, okay?"

"Porphyria treatment?"

"Yes."

"Okay." I walked out the door.

I was putting my foot on the first step of the stairs when I heard someone speak.

"They'll read something terrible into it if you go to your room before bedtime. They're big on group activities here." I turned around to see Simon coming out of the kitchen; he was smiling at me.

"Is there somewhere I can be alone without the nurses here berating me for not participating in a 'group activity'?"

"Outside," said a deep, rumbling voice from the kitchen. Derek rounded the corner with a pack of saltines and an apple and joined Simon. "If you shoot hoops out there they'll just think you want to have fun, but haven't made any friends to play with yet." My breath caught slightly as I saw _exactly_ how big he was standing up. There was an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I couldn't tell what it was. It wasn't necessarily _bad_, I guess . . .

"Sorry, we were never properly introduced," said Simon. "I'm Simon, and this is my brother Derek."

"Adopted?" I wondered aloud.

"No, identical twins," Derek said, sounding annoyed at my need to ask what was already obvious.

"Your name was…?" Simon asked, ignoring his brother's last comment.

"Grace," Derek interrupted. "Her name's Grace. Can we go now, Simon?"

"You can go on ahead, I'll be right there." Derek left. "Sorry, about him, he's . . . rude sometimes."

"Don't apologize for him. If he's sorry then _he'll _apologize. Anyway, it doesn't really matter to me one way or the other if anybody here is nice to me or not. I plan on getting out of here as soon as I possibly can." I was probably a little too rude, but it ticked me off when people apologized _for _someone else, if they were sorry then _they'd _say so, if they weren't then there was no need for an apology at all.

"We all planned on that. Things don't always go as planned. If you need any help around here, let me know."

Just then, my throat burned again. I wanted to lunge forward, rip the veins from his neck, and empty them into my mouth like pixie sticks. I jumped backward and tripped over the edge of a carpet I didn't know was there. I took gasping breaths; each one felt like someone was stuffing a kitchen knife down my esophagus.

"Mrs. Talbot? Mrs. Talbot!" I heard Simon shouting. I was convulsing in pain, it probably looked like I was seizing. Two voices were asking what was wrong, one was high, one low.

I saw the outline of Mrs. Talbot, then Derek. They tried to hold me down, while Dr. Gill came out of her office with a syringe. Derek was trying to hold my head in place so the sedative could go in my neck. His thumb caught between my teeth, I didn't even realize I was biting down until I tasted blood. He jerked back, letting go of my head. Dr. Gill looked like there was an invisible wall between her and me. I still had Derek's thumb in my mouth. I got about a quarter cup of his blood, before I let go. My whole body relaxed, and I think my eyes rolled back in my head. I felt a needle pierce each of my arms.

"A sedative and her treatment," said Dr. Gill's strained voice.

I heard Derek speak just before I passed out.

"Damn…She bit me."

"_Damn, damn, damn…"_

"_Gel, please don't. We can play a game, something to take your mind off the traveling," I pleaded with her._

"_Ange, play with your sister, we're going to see Gran and that's that. As long as you're living with this family you're going to abide by our rules." Dad was turned around in the passenger seat trying look at Gel._

"_Okay," she said ruffling my hair. "Sorry G, Whada ya wanna play?"_

"_Hmm…Twenty questions?" I asked, trying to please my older sister._

"_Alright, you think of an animal, vegetable, or mineral._

_You're right Mom and Dad; I need to get my own place. I love you, but I need to get out."_

"_Love you too sweetie, but we agree, you need to get out," Dad said, both he and Mom were smiling. We all laughed._

"_Mom! The deer!"_

"_What about the de-"_

_The car swerved and went off the road. It wrapped itself around a tree. I heard screaming. It was me. The tree was in the middle of the car; between Gel and me. My eyes were blurry. I couldn't see my parents. I couldn't see anything. Pain. My shoulder. I looked down. There was a branch where my shoulder should have been. There was blood. Gel…unconscious. Cell phone…911. Couldn't reach it. Black……_

I woke up in the same bed as last time, just one difference…restraints. Make that _two_ differences…

"Derek? What are you doing here?" I didn't even know him, and he was by my bed?

"Apology," he said quickly. I got the strange feeling that he was here for a completely different reason, and he hadn't expected me to wake up.

"It's fine, forget about it."

"_I _don't have anything to apologize for." He held up his right thumb. There were marks in a crescent shape on both sides of it.

"You're asking a crazy, unstable, teenager, who could possibly go psycho on you at any moment, to say sorry?" He let out a deep rumble that sounded almost like a laugh.

"I could say the same thing to you, you know."

"Right . . . welcome to the nuthouse." Another deep rumble. He looked at me like I was a play he had to memorize by tomorrow. "Oh, right, your apology. I'm very sorry for biting you…even though I had no control, because if I did I wouldn't be here in the first place, and since I _am _here you should know that." It probably wasn't exactly what he was looking for, but then again, I still didn't think he came for an apology at all.

"So what are you in for?" he asked bluntly.

"Let's just say I gave someone a _really_ bad hickey."

"You bit him too," he surmised.

"He was asking for it. Besides, I didn't even know I was doing it until it was done."

"But you knew you were doing it to me?"

"No." I blushed. "It was the same with you. Only you weren't asking for it, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I took more from Grady. I don't know why, but your blood was more . . . filling." He clenched his jaw, and, almost imperceptibly, nodded to himself.

"What? Why are you nodding?"

"Nothing." He got up and left.

That was when I realized I was still in the Velcro restraints. I sighed and drifted back to sleep. What else was there to do anyway?


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Darkest Powers series **

**Author's Note: Hello, just to let everyone who is reading my story know, (if any of you are indeed reading my story) I am holding chapter four hostage until I get five reviews from at least four different people. I do hope that this doesn't take months, but I am willing to wait that long if it does. And no, I'm not bluffing!**

Chapter three: Suspicions Aroused

I woke up at six fifteen the next morning. I had dreamed of blood and sunshine and a vampire, one of the victims tossed into a creek, face glowing eerily from just beneath the surface of the water. Strangely enough, it was a relief, I wasn't sure I could face reliving another segment of the worst day of my life. But something about that dream left me uneasy, something about the vampire, I couldn't remember . . . I shook my head and left the room, noticing the restraints were gone. If I couldn't remember it, it must not have been that important. Right?

The shower water was nice and hot, very refreshing. I wanted to take my time that day, but soon the other girls would wake up and want to bathe as well. Sighing, I shut the water off and stepped out.

I wiped the steam off the mirror and looked at myself. The scar on my left shoulder shone a ghostly white against my now pink skin. It was about three inches in diameter; it looked like a huge pearl. And it looked like it was . . . shrinking? That was impossible, but it looked like it had reduced in size by about a half an inch.

Realizing I forgot my clothes, I wrapped my towel around me tightly, and ran back to my room. Right before I got to my door, though, I saw a huge shadow lurking right next to me. I stared stupidly at Derek with my jaw open two inches wide.

"I . . . was . . . just looking for Mrs. Talbot," he murmured. "I didn't think anyone was awake yet." He tried to look away, but his gaze kept floating to my chest. At least, I thought it was my chest at first, then I recognized the look on his face, I saw it whenever I wore a tank top. He was staring at my scar. I swallowed, nodded, and ducked into my room.

"Well, that was awkward and . . . really rather embarrassing," I muttered to myself. I ran to the closet and got dressed as fast as I could, making sure that my entire scar was covered on both sides of my shoulder.

"Grace? It's time to wake up," said Mrs. Talbot's voice from the hallway. I opened the door. "Oh, you're already awake. And . . . showered. It's breakfast, you can come down in your nightclothes here."

"I woke up early; I had a lot of time left." I shrugged.

"Breakfast is in ten minutes, alright?"

"Um, yes, about that . . . I can't . . . eat," I confessed.

"Of course you can eat. You're human aren't you?"

About that . . .

"I understand if you're not hungry, but you're still growing, you need fuel."

"I . . . I throw up whenever I eat solid food . . . or mentos," I added remembering what I had done to get out of class.

"Well, you're going to have to try, we keep all our kids here nice and healthy, that means nutritious meals three times a day."

"Fine, I'll try." I didn't want to puke again, but I wasn't going to get away with not eating again. "Oh, by the way," I remembered. "Did Derek find you? He said he was looking for you."

"No, I'll have to ask him what he wanted." And with that she walked away.

I went to the bed, and sat down. My throat started burning again. Nobody was around; I knew what I needed to stop the pain. I didn't even bother to get a belt and a knife. I folded up my sleeve, and raised my arm to my lips. I bit down, hard. The pain wasn't as bad as the burning, but it still hurt. I made a muffled squeal/grunt; not loud enough for anyone to hear.

The pain stopped abruptly when I'd had about a quart. I fought so hard against the fog engulfing me, that I didn't even black out. When I pulled back, I looked in mirror and smiled, proud of myself for not passing out.

Now I was faced with a different problem, hallucinations. I saw two sharp fangs protruding from where my canines should have been. I reached up and touched them, my objective to convince myself they weren't real. I didn't reach my objective. I could feel the sharp points; I even pricked my finger on one. They were real, but that wasn't possible. I didn't know what to believe anymore. Was I crazy or was I . . . something else? Something I had dismissed as a possibility too soon.

Seven thirty, time for breakfast. I walked slowly down the stairs trying to keep a straight face. I knew that if I thought about it anymore at that moment I would snap. Nothing that was happening seemed possible, but it had to be, because it was. Does that even make any sense? I didn't know.

I sat down and was presented with a plate of whole wheat toast and fruit, something I would have been perfectly content with a week ago, but now… I was ready to vomit already.

"Hello, Grace," said a cheery voice from across the table. "I'm Liz; I just wanted to say welcome. Welcome," she giggled. Liz was the bright-eyed blonde girl I had seen the night before at dinner.

"Thanks," I murmured, not feeling very thankful for being told I was welcome at a group home. I could tell she meant well, though. "Where's… um, the other girl?" I asked, noticing that the dark skinned girl wasn't at the table.

"Rae? Oh, she's probably off eating cupcakes and lighting fires," sneered Tori.

"I think she's doing laundry, Grace," said Liz. I nodded, as a plan formed in my head.

"I . . . actually had a midnight snack last night, so I'm not hungry. I think I'm going to go help with laundry." I got up, wrapped my toast in a napkin, and headed downstairs to where I'd heard the washing machine chugging away during the night.

"Would you like to hear what Mrs. Talbot thinks about that?" asked Tori, patronizingly.

"I sure she'd be fine with me doing the laundry," I snapped, my words having a little more bite than I had intended. Tori looked sour, but didn't say anything.

The basement was the cheeriest basement I'd even seen, which shouldn't have surprised me, I guess.

"Anyone down here?" I called. The smell of smoke wafted through the doorway and I heard a low curse.

"Uh . . . yeah! I'm, um . . . right over here," Rae answered. I walked over to her.

"So you smoke?" I asked casually, not really caring one way or another, I wasn't going to tattle on her; it was none of my business.

"No, I don't smoke. I . . . " she sighed. "I just like fire. That's why I'm in here, you know. I'm surprised no one has told you. I don't have any cigarettes, just matches."

"Huh." I thought that was odd; that she put in a group home just because she liked fire. I liked fire too, probably not as much as she did, but still. "Nothing else? No arson? No smoking? You just _like_ fire?" Her reason for being here didn't quite sit well with me.

"Nothing else," she confirmed. "Doesn't seem like a legit excuse to throw someone in here, does it?"

"No. No, it doesn't," I agreed. Lyle House was creeping me out. Why didn't anyone here seem even a little bit off their rocker?

"So what're you here for? You don't seem too bad." I smirked at that.

"Well, it's worse than liking fire. I kinda… bit someone."

"So? My little sis bit someone once. Big deal."

"Hard. And I wouldn't let go. I have rather… vampiric symptoms." She raised her eyebrows at me.

"O . . . kay. Just promise not to bite _me,_ alright? Is the person you bit okay?"

"I promise to try really hard not to bite you. And my sister says that he'll be fine. He _was_ asking for it, though. His name's Grady Louder, a despicable human being."

"Yeah, you asked Mrs. Talbot to not call you honey. You said Grady called you honey. Did Grady call you Gracie too?"

"Yes," I answered, not comfortable with talking about this anymore. "Sorry, I forgot, I didn't see you at breakfast, so I brought you some toast. It's probably cold by now." I unwrapped the napkin, and showed the toast to her.

"Thanks," she said, and wolfed it down. "I was starving."

"I can see that." I pointed to a spot on my face and told her that she had a dot of jam on the corner of her mouth.

The washing machine dinged and we took the old laundry out, put it in the dryer, put the new laundry in, and started the machine again.

"If you want some more breakfast, I can take over here." I was quietly hoping that she would leave and I would get some me time without setting off the nurses internal alarms.

"I don't eat with Queen Victoria."

"I'm pretty sure Tori's finished by now. You can go ahead and go, I'm fine here."

"You sure?" I could tell that she really wanted more breakfast, but still wanted to help.

"I'm sure."

"Thanks." She ran up the stairs, and I was left alone in the too-not-creepy-to-be-a-basement basement.

I almost found folding laundry oddly therapeutic, much more than talking to Dr. Gill. I always had my way to fold every item of clothing. It was nice to have something I didn't need to really think about, every sock went together, and every item went with a person. My hands had something to do while I played movies in my head.

"Oh, you're down here. I thought Rae did the laundry this week." Derek was standing in the doorway looking slightly awkward. When I remembered our embarrassing encounter earlier that morning, which had involved a serious clothing deficiency, I understood why.

"I guess she usually does," I answered, not knowing what else to say. "But I told her I'd finish up for her while she ate." He just grunted in response. "Is . . . um, is there something you need washed?"

"No." He walked over and reached toward my shoulder. I flinched away; I couldn't stand people touching me. But he kept reaching past me and grabbed a white t-shirt from the pile I was folding. He shook it at me as if that was as good as any answer.

"Oh," I whispered softly, blushing.

He was staring intently at my left shoulder - where he seen my scar- again. He was frowning, but then again Derek had been frowning since the first time I'd seen him.

"I was little. I was playing in a tree in the backyard when I fell. I landed on a wooden spike that my dad was using to mark the spot where he was going to put our new barbeque." The words flowed easily from my mouth. I'd been telling people the same story since I was twelve. It was the one lie I was good at telling. No . . . I wasn't good; I was great. Sometimes I almost convinced myself it was the truth, almost convinced myself that it never happened . . .

"I don't know what you're talking about," he grumbled as he turned away.

"Huh, I'm sure you don't," I muttered once he had gone upstairs.

After a few more minutes Miss Van Dop came and told me that it was time for afternoon lessons.

Lunch and lessons went as smoothly as I expected, about as smooth as cheese grater. My throat ached and burned at the sight of creamy skin stretched over a network of thin tubes containing a liquid that made me drool all over my math book. Every so often I'd look over and catch Derek staring at me like I was some terribly frustrating puzzle that he couldn't figure out. This was humiliating when I couldn't stop salivating, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Why did you lie about how you got that scar?" It was the end of classes and Derek had caught up to me as I was hurrying back to my room.

"What?" I was taken aback by his question. No one ever knew I was lying. "I didn't lie. That's how I got the scar."

"What scar? I don't see any scar." Tori was right behind us, and apparently eavesdropping on our conversation.

"Of course you don't. You're behind me," I snapped. I was sensitive about the issue of my scar, my memento of the most horrific day of my life. I went to a lot of trouble to keep my scar hidden from everyone, but now that Tori knew I had it all of Lyle House would know by tomorrow.

I had the sudden and disturbing urge to kill her right there and then to stop the problem in its tracks. But I checked myself before I acted on that urge.

"What scar?" she asked again. "I never saw any scar." I didn't know why she cared so much. I guessed it was because Tori was the kind of person who wanted as much dirt as possible on the people around her.

"It's not important. I just hurt myself playing when I was little. That's _all._" I looked at Derek with a face that said, "Case closed." Or at least that's what I thought it said. In actuality it must have said, "Keep bugging me and getting in my face until I break down and tell you the truth." Because that's exactly what he did.

"Did _he_ see a scar when I didn't? I've seen you just as much as he has." She snickered a bit. "Unless I haven't, unless he _has_ seen_ more_ of you than I have. I thought I heard a boy's voice early this morning." Innuendo was practically seeping out of her pores.

I whirled around to face her, my cheeks burning with anger and embarrassment. She was a good five inches taller than me, but I was twice as intimidating at the moment.

"It's . . . not . . . important," I repeated. I spoke as though I was talking to someone mentally incompetent. My eyes glowing with barely concealed menace. Tori recoiled.

"Fine," she said huffily. "I'm really not that interested anyway." She turned and walked away from me.

_Away from us_, I amended, realizing that Derek hadn't moved.

"I'm interested," he said.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Alright, I have five reviews from four different people now, so here's the next chapter. Enjoy.**_

Chapter four: Suspicions Confirmed

"I was playing in a tree!" I almost shouted at him. "I fell! Nothing more! It's a boring story, but it's true!"

"No, it's not," he said calmly. I blinked. Once. Twice. Swallow. A third time. Nobody had ever been _so _sure that I was lying about that story. Everyone who knew me knew that I was a terrible liar, but I was _so_ good about telling this story, _so good_ that no one ever questioned it.

"I'll tell you how I got it if you tell me…" I didn't know which one I was more interested in, why he wanted to know, or how he figured out I was lying. "How you knew I was lying," I decided finally.

He scowled, and then pursed his lips looking away, deliberating.

"Your pulse sped up."

"You know this, how?"

"I . . . I heard it." He wouldn't look at me as he said it.

A million thoughts flooded my brain at the same time. Was this it? Was this how I was finally going to get my answers? He _heard_ my pulse. No _human_ could hear that, could they? Was _I _human?

"You, um, _heard _my pulse speed up?" I tried to sound as casual as possible . . . and failed.

He grunted and grabbed my elbow, dragging me downstairs to the basement.

"Yes, okay? I heard it. I'm . . . not normal . . . exactly. Satisfied?"

"It was a car crash. Five years and two-hundred and twenty-six days ago. It was the day before my tenth birthday." I took a deep breath. "If I hadn't yelled at my mom that there was a deer in the road . . . then it would have died. And our car would have had deer blood all over it and a dent in the hood. And I wouldn't have this scar. And my parents would be alive. But I did yell . . . and the deer made it. And our car wrapped itself around a tree like a scarf. And I _do _have this stupid scar." My voice was breaking and my eyes were swimming. "And my parents . . . my parents were horribly maimed by branches and died a slow painful death. Because of me."

Derek looked thoughtful. He stood there a long while before he finally mumbled, "Shit."

I'd have a lot of different responses from people who found out about that story, but never "shit" not "sorry" or an awkward "oh" just "shit!"

"I thought it was going to be something different," he added. I gaped at him. Was he . . . Was he disappointed? I almost lost it.

I whispered fiercely, "What the hell are you talking about? Were you expecting some grand adventure story? I'm sorry; did I dissatisfy you with my rather generic and boring car crash plot?"

"I thought it was going to be more recent. I thought maybe . . . maybe someone bit you." Then it dawned on me. He thought I was a vampire. He thought I'd gotten the scar from being changed.

I remembered something. Vampires are supposed to heal quickly. I had thought my scar was shrinking. Connection.

"Wait right here. I need to go upstairs and get something from my room." I had an idea, and I couldn't execute my brilliant plan while I was wearing the turtle neck I currently had on. I couldn't get a shirt from the laundry either, because it had just been put away.

"You can't. They won't let you. You can't go up to your room during the day. Stupid rule, I know."

I took a deep breath and braced myself for what I was about to do. I clenched my teeth, turned around so that I wasn't facing Derek, and _blushed like crazy_. I couldn't think about it too long or else I'd never do it. In one quick movement my top was off and I was left standing in my jeans and bra. I never even wore my swimsuit without a rash guard. I felt so exposed. For once in my life, I was glad the scar was in the back too. I couldn't have done it if I'd had to face him.

"How big is the scar?" Apparently Derek was too dumbfounded by what I had just done to speak. I repeated my question.

"I . . . er . . . ah, about the size of a quarter," he finally spat out. "It was bigger this morning." I knew it! I was _so-o-o-o-o_ glad I didn't just take my top off in front of a guy I barely knew for no reason.

I felt the rough skin of his fingers touch the scar, examining it. It felt nice, but when someone whacks you in the knee you're leg is going to kick, whether you want it to or not.

"Hey! Hands off." I almost turned to look at him, realizing at the last second what a mistake that would be.

"Sorry," he muttered, and dropped his hand.

"I'll betcha anything that the one on this side is the same; both sides were about four inches across a week ago." He was silent for a moment.

"Can I look at the other scar?" I paused.

"Give me your sweatshirt and you can see the scar." I was big on deals.

He shed his sweatshirt and handed it to me. I tied the arms of it around my chest and held it close before I grudgingly turned around. Derek looked down and away before settling his gaze on my scar.

"Same size as the back one, your scar _is _shrinking. Porphyria doesn't do that. We both know what you are," he stated. "A vampire."

"That was . . . " I could have said mean, but I knew he was just being honest. I could have said harsh, but it really _was_ the truth, I could feel it. "Blunt," I finished.

"Do you know anything about vampires?"

"I don't know if I know. There are so many versions of them nowadays that I don't know what's real . . . " I trailed off.

"Meet me in my room at eight-ten tonight. Simon and I can help answer some questions." He started to leave.

"Um, your sweatshirt . . . " I started to hold it out, but thought better of it. "Right. I'll give it to you tonight."

When I got on my turtleneck on and went upstairs it was six-thirty; dinner time.

"You and Derek getting in some playtime before supper?" Tori whispered in my ear before we sat down. "Oh and . . . " She snickered. "Your shirt's on backwards. Just thought you might want to know."

I froze and could tell that my eyes were as wide as saucers. _Everyone_ would most defiantly think that Derek and I were fooling around. We both came out of the basement; him without his sweatshirt, and me with my top on backward, _holding _Derek's sweatshirt.

This was going to be a _fun_ stay at Lyle House. What was Tori's _problem_ anyway? From the way she looked at Simon I could tell she didn't want Derek for herself. From the way Derek looked, I could tell not many people wanted him for their selves. Except maybe -just _maybe_- me….

"What's wrong Grace?" she hissed, even closer. "Derek bite your tongue?"

I don't know exactly what happened in that moment. I had enough self restraint to keep from sucking her blood. I think finally knowing what I was helped to figure out how to control it. But next thing I knew, my elbow was in the air, and my knuckles were pointing toward Tori who was, at the moment, on her rear and looking at me as if I'd just slugged her; which I guess I did.

"Sorry," I murmured without looking at her (because I wasn't _actually _sorry), and held out a hand. She took it and squeezed. Pain shot through my palm and up my arm traveling throughout my entire body, nearly making me collapse.

"You're sorry, alright! You better be, you crazy b-"

"Tori, please! Please don't do this. We're all in here for a _reason_. Please, Tori don't." Liz was trying to defuse the situation; and I was pleasantly surprised when she succeeded. Out of the corner of my eye I saw what looked like blue sparks around Tori's hands go out like a candle flame. Yes, we were defiantly all in here for a reason . . . but I wasn't convinced that we were crazy . . .

"Fine. But you better keep your grubby fists off me from now on. I can make you hurt like never before. You push me over the edge, and you'll find out." Her eyes were narrowed to cruel slits.

"I'll keep that in mind . . . as long as you remember _exactly_ what I'm in here for." I got a sudden flash of inspiration. My jaw was aching; I figured that meant that my canines had grown since I'd last seen them. Sure enough, when I smiled at her I saw the color drain from her face, but she turned away quickly and sat down. I did the same.

_Oh shoot. This is not good._ It had dawned on me that meal time at Lyle House was always going to be complicated. I had managed to skip lunch by telling Mrs. Talbot that I had to use the restroom and couldn't hold it, which wasn't a lie, but I didn't actually need the entire lunch period to do it. _Maybe I just have to throw up a couple of times before Mrs. Talbot finally gets it._

_But I don't want to throw up that many times. Especially not in front of Tori_

_. . . or Derek_

_This is _not_ the time to have any sort of romantic interest in anyone._

_Oh . . . I didn't know that was what I was feeling for him, exactly. Great, now I'm going to be really awkward and embarrassed around him. I defiantly can't throw up now._

"Oh, goodness, girl. Just eat already!" Rae shoved a piece of roll in my mouth. I spit it out, but it was too late. I was getting less and less tolerant of regular food, and if I didn't drink blood soon I felt as if I might kill somebody. I ralphed all over the floor at my feet. Too mortified to speak, I ran into the kitchen and informed Mrs. Talbot of the incident in an "I told you so" tone.

"Alright. Obviously you have an upset stomach. You can go to your room." She said this all rather grudgingly.

_**Author's Note: Please Review, it would mean a lot to me. Constructive criticism is always welcome; just try not to be mean, please.**_


	5. Chapter 5

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Darkest Powers._**

**_Author's Note: Again, I will not be updating until I get four more comments on this chapter. Plus, I'm running out of prewritten chapters and I need the extra time! I'm going to have to write like a madwoman to keep the pace I've set for myself._**

Chapter five: The Turning

I did as she said and didn't even remember the meeting that Derek and I had set up earlier that day.

"You decent?" a voice rumbled from the other side of the door.

I pulled a navy blue sweatshirt over the camisole I had changed into and answered. "Yep, come on in." The door swung open to reveal a wet-haired glowering Derek.

"You forgot. You were supposed to be in my room ten minutes ago."

"Yes, I forgot. I'm sorry. I got a lot on my mind; it's not every day you find out you're a vampire, you know."

He grunted at this in a way that suggested he didn't care if I had found out I was the daughter of Lucifer Himself; I shouldn't have forgotten that meeting. He sat down on the bed beside me and plunged straight into the conversation.

"Do you remember the day you were bitten?"

I shook my head. "No," I started to respond. "Wait . . . maybe I- maybe I do," I said slowly, unsure. I got up and started rifling through a box of possessions I'd asked Gel to bring to me. I held up a small blood red marble. I'd found it in my jeans pocket a few weeks ago, and I'd been emotionally attached to it ever since. "When I hold it up to the light it turns black. I think I may have gotten it the day I turned, but I don't remember. Does it mean anything to you?"

"Some vampires have signatures. They give something to their . . . offspring to remember them by. Sometimes though -it's rare, but it happens- but sometimes a vampires, like you, don't remember the bite at all, and it's sort of pointless for their maker to leave a calling card."

I closed my eyes and images flashed on the insides of my eyelids. Blood and sunshine. A vampire. A victim tossed into a creek, her face glowing eerily from just beneath the surface of the water.

"It's me." I could see the face under the water now. It was me. Everything came flooding back. I remembered _everything_. "Oh, God. The pain. I drowned. He didn't even wait to see if I'd become . . . like him."

"You remember now?" Derek look mildly annoyed at the fact that I didn't recall this information in the first place.

"Yes. Everything. Every . . . tiny . . . gruesome . . . detail."

"Tell me. If it's a rather famous one, I can probably tell who made you by _how_ he made you."

"I was coming home from school and he came up to me. He didn't do anything _really_ unusual, just talked to me. After a little while I looked at the path I was headed down and realized I was in the middle of a small forest. I had no idea how I got there…"

"Vampires can sometimes confuse their prey, leading them off in a direction that is convenient for them."

"Anyway," I continued. "I asked where we were. He just smiled at me; I saw his fangs and stumbled backward. I fell and he pounced on me like a dog on a raw steak. The only thing I can remember about that is blinding pain in my neck. When he was done feeding he tossed me into a large creek. I saw his face grinning down at me through the water. He reached down and put something in my pocket. After that I blacked out. I woke up at home the next morning soaking wet in bed with no memory of the past day. And then I found this." I held up the marble.

"Old Nick. It's a name for the Devil; you know, like Satan, or Beelzebub. Howard Smith was born September fourteenth 1821. He's still twenty-six and one-hundred and eighty-eight at the same time. Water and a red marble, that's his mark."

"Does he usually kill or create?"

He hesitated.

"Kill. He's never created before. You were probably just a mistake."

"Why does he just murder them?"

"Old Nick, aka Howard Smith, is special even for a vampire. He doesn't like to make other vampires, because there's a good chance that one created by him would be strong enough to take him on. He's the strongest and the most insatiable that there is, but not the most famous, he likes to play it fairly safe." He bit his lip and frowned. "If he finds out that you're ali- . . . . that you exist, he'll hunt you down, and probably send a group of vampires to kill you."

"If I'm not alive, and yes I did notice that you changed the word to exist, then how did you hear my pulse?"

"You're not quite dead yet, it takes about a month and a half to fully change." Whatever blood I had in my face at the moment (which wasn't much, seeing as dying people are pretty pale) vanished abruptly.

"Tomorrow. Tomorrow it will have been six weeks since he bit me."

"I could tell by the beat of your heart that it wasn't going to be long. You think you're thirsty now, just wait." I felt paralyzed. I couldn't breathe, that was when I realized that I didn't really have to. I had an impending sense of doom fogging up my vision.

"God help us all," I breathed. Derek's scowl got even deeper.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, wearily.

"I mean, if I get any hungrier for blood than I already am tomorrow, by sundown Lyle house will be empty of anything living. Even I won't have a heart beat any longer, you said so yourself. I will not be able to restrain myself."

Derek pulled off the sweatshirt that I had left on the back of the chair in the dining room. I hadn't noticed how built he was before now. He had at least a six pack. He unbuckled his belt, folded it over and stuffed it in his mouth. He held out his arm in front my face.

I raised my eyebrows in shock. He was offering me his blood? He wasn't afraid I'd make him into a vampire? What other choice did I have?

_Well you could always viciously slaughter everyone in the building tomorrow, _said a voice in the back of my head.

I did it quickly. I could still hear him groan as my teeth sunk deeper into his flesh. I tried to satiate my hunger as fast as possible so that he didn't have to fight the pain for too long. It was even better than I remembered it. His blood was rich and filling. I'd had a little less than my fair share (I guess none of it was my fair share since it was all his blood) before I was fully quenched. I unclenched my jaw and released his arm.

The wound was nasty and he was unnaturally pale. "Derek? Derek are you alright?" Slowly the color returned to his face, very slowly. I looked down and noticed that his arm was already scabbing over. "Derek? You okay?"

"Yeah. Fine."

"What are you?" His head whipped toward me. "Oh, please. Did you really think I wouldn't ask? I didn't think you were that thick. Are you a vampire too?" I knew before he answered me that he wasn't, but I wasn't any closer to finding out what he _was_.

"No. I'm not a vampire. I'm a… something else."

"If you're not a vampire, I would never have guessed that you were something else," I stated sarcastically. He shot me a dirty look. "Normally I would take the hint and drop the subject, but your blood… It's _so_ different. I need to know what you are."

"A werewolf. I'm a werewolf." He looked angry and… ashamed.

I however, was sure that my face was portraying, very clearly, the emotion I was feeling; excitement. "A werewolf? Really? Do you change every full moon, or what?"

"No. I haven't started changing yet, and I won't for a while."

"When you do change, what will you change into? A man-slash-wolf or just a wolf?" I'd always been fascinated by werewolves and vampires. Now that I knew what being a vampire was like, though, I thought I liked werewolves a little better.

"Wolf." Derek seemed bothered by the whole conversation, so I decided leave him alone…for now.

The room was quiet for about three minutes before Derek got up to leave. "Wait! Don't…please, don't go." I sounded like a little girl asking Mommy not to leave her at her first day of school; but I didn't care. I didn't want to be left alone. I was too afraid of what might happen if I was by myself. Afraid of where my mind might wander.

"What do you need?" he asked. Clearly he thought I wanted something rational, I didn't think he would understand my need for company.

I felt so silly asking it, so stupid and embarrassed, but my fear of the unknown outweighed all of those emotions. "Would you…" I took a deep breath to force the rest of my question out. "Would you stay?" He looked vaguely puzzled.

"What do you need?" he repeated, not comprehending the meaning of my request.

"I just need you to stay. I'm scared of what could happen to me." I looked away. "What _will_ happen to me," I added in a softer voice.

"A'right," he grunted. "But I'm going to have to leave sooner or later." He sat back down.

"Why?" It was a ridiculous question, of course I knew why. The nurses would notice that Derek wasn't in his room, and it could very well turn out to be a total fiasco if they found out that he was in mine. Combine that with what Tori would tell them… oi. That would be severely problematic for the both of us.

However all he said was, "I guess I don't have to."

I didn't point out all the flaws I saw in this statement. Who was I to turn down the very company I'd been fishing for?

Derek left my room to go tell Simon that he wouldn't be staying with him tonight. He had a situation (me) to deal with. I heard all this, because apparently, with my new vampire hearing I could listen to conversations in rooms on the opposite side of the building. Granted it was all on the same floor, but still, it was pretty cool. Or at least it would have been if I didn't have to be, you know, dead, to do it.

Around nine Mrs. Talbot knocked on the door and told us (well, she thought it was only me) that it was lights out. Thank _God_ she didn't come _in!_

"Okay, Mrs. Talbot!" I stage whispered back to her. My night vision was getting really good, so it didn't really matter to me whether the light was on or off. I figured Derek probably felt the same way.

"What now?" It was kind of disconcerting how low his voice was when he used hushed tones.

"Do vampires sleep?" I wondered.

"No. Corpses don't exactly need their beauty sleep." The corpse remark kind of stung.

"Then I guess I'd better do that while I can." I rolled over and pulled the sheets up to my neck. I wanted to get really comfortable for my last good night's sleep.

Before I drifted off I could _swear_ I felt the tips of his fingers brushing the hair away from my face. I must have been imagining it . . .

"_You're going to prom with me!" Grady called out after me as I walked down the street toward my house._

"_In your dreams!"_

"_Damn right, you're in my dreams, Gracie! Wanna hear about it?"_

"_Nope!"_

_I had walked about a block when I heard a voice from behind me. "Your bag looks heavy. Can I help?" I knew better than to give a stranger my book bag that just happened to have my wallet in it. I dug out my math book and the _huge _dictionary I carried with me. I put them in his outstretched hands._

"_Thanks, I don't really need the permanent dent in my shoulder to get any deeper." That was the first time I'd seen his face. Prominent chiseled features, strange teal colored eyes, square jaw, almost black hair, a little bit of stubble, but not excessive facial hair. He looked like he was in his late twenties, maybe, definitely attractive, but kind of dangerous looking. I didn't trust him. "And your name is…?"_

"_Nick. And you?" He raised an eyebrow inquisitively. I paused._

"_Olivia." I didn't want this man knowing my real name. "Olivia Burns." His eyes narrowed._

"_You don't look like an Olivia to me."_

"_Oh? So what do I look like?" Did he hear Brady say my name? Well, _Gracie _anyway._

"_Charity, maybe? Joy? Faith? Hope? Grace. Yes, that's it. Grace." My stupid face always betrayed me in the end. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped about an inch. I started to splutter that that was ridiculous, my name was Olive. Of course, then I had to stop and correct myself, because I had said my name was Olivia, not Olive._

_He was laughing at me. "Grace I've known who you are since I spotted you on the street. I've been looking for you."_

"_Who are you?" I looked around me for help, and realized I wasn't in the street anymore. I was smack dab in the middle of a forest, no help in sight. "Where am I?"_

_He smiled and I saw that his canine teeth were pointy and elongated. I'd always thought I wanted to meet a vampire. Well, that was before I knew they existed and were intent on sucking my blood._

_I tried to run, but my heel connected with a rock behind me and I fell backward. He pounced. _

Oh God. Please God. Oh God, I'm going to die. _The comprehension of that fact hit me cold and hard like I'd smacked into the floor of an ice rink._

_Unbelievable PAIN. Gnawing at my throat, tearing at my flesh, sucking, pulling, ripping at my veins. I think I screamed; I'm not sure. I think I tried to fight back, I don't know; if I did, my attempt was futile._

_Wet. More pain. He tossed me into the creek, still grinning. He reached down and put something in my pocket. I wondered vaguely what it was. Water in my lungs. Drowned._

_I coughed up the water and spit out the fish crap that had made its way into my mouth. I got up, walked home, and plopped myself in my bed, holding my sheets to the healing wound on my neck._

_I woke up. _Where am I? And why am I all wet? Is that blood?

I opened my eyes, shocked awake by the feeling that a bomb had gone off in my throat. I clawed at it, trying to rip the pain out. I flailed wildly around, panicking. I hit something. Hard.

"Ouch, Jesus, what the…?" Derek immediately leaped off the bed, and stared at me. I saw something in his face that night (or I guess it was morning) that I never want to see in it again, especially directed at me. Fear. Undiluted fear. He was scared of me, terrified. He thought I was going to kill him. "You have no heartbeat. It didn't slow down, it's just . . . gone."

I barely heard him. Oh god. This was worse than when Old Nick bit me. This was worse than anything I could have imagined. I couldn't think; all I could do was _need_. His blood. I needed his blood.

_If you take it now you could kill him. You've already taken about a liter. He might not survive._

_I don't care! I need it! I need it NOW! RIGHT NOW! I don't care if dies!_

_Yes. You do. We both do. You lo-_

_No! No, no, no, no, no!_ I couldn't deal with an internal struggle right now. Not with everything else going on. The voice in my head was right, though. I .didn't want to kill him. Someone had to die, though . . . even if that person was technically already dead . . .

"Kill me," I rasped. When I had said the same thing to Gel I hadn't _really_ meant it; it was just a dramatic way of saying I felt bad. This time I meant it. This time I really _meant_ _it_. I didn't want to kill anyone, and I _would_ if I continued to liv- if I continued to exist. "Do it now!" If he didn't do it soon I was going to kill him, even if I didn't want to.

"No. I'm not going to kill you. I am _not_ going to kill you." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. He didn't want me around, I could tell. If he killed me, though, he'd feel guilty.

"How do you kill a vampire?" My teeth were gritted. I was surprised he could actually understand me. He didn't answer me, but I could tell by his eyes that he knew. "Tell me, or you _will_ die." He understood that I wasn't joking. That it wasn't a threat, it was a fact; I couldn't keep my teeth to myself much longer.

He looked like he was in agony now. He didn't want to tell me, but he knew that people would die if I didn't. It was one measly half- life or . . . who knew how many? Derek was a good guy, he didn't want me to die, but he was rational.

"You have to separate the brain from everything else. Even the head. It's almost impossible to do alone."

"Almost," I repeated, before I jumped out of bed and sprinted to the kitchen. Did I say sprinted? I meant . . . I don't know the word for it. I went faster than I'd ever seen anyone go before; at _least_ sixty miles per hour. In a matter of milliseconds I had a knife in my hand. I raised it to my eyebrows and drew it across my forehead. Blood dripped down into my eyes, obscuring my vision and clumping together my lashes.

"No. I can't let you do this." Derek had grabbed my wrist with one hand and was pushing me away from the knife with the other. He was stronger than I was, just barely, but it was enough. I couldn't fight back, even though I was the one with the knife. He yanked it from my hand and slit his arm, right above his wrist.

I was in a frenzy, I couldn't stop myself once I saw the blood. I grabbed his arm with both hands and practically pulled all the veins from his arm, trying to quench my thirst.

By the time I was satisfied enough to regain sanity, (which really wasn't even close to full), I'd had enough to make him look sickly, and lean on the counter to support himself.

Apparently, even though they don't sleep, vampires _can_ pass out. I'm not sure _why_ I fainted, and neither is Derek, but I did. I think it was everything combined; the pain, the hunger, the need, the suicide attempt, the blood, the . . . everything else. I didn't dream this time, though. About anything. I guessed vampires didn't dream, which was fine by me.

As I was drifting off into peaceful oblivion, I could swear that just before it all went black I could feel a hand smooth my hair (that was now sticky and red from both of our blood) back from my face and two warm lips brush my forehead just above the cut that stretched from eyebrow to eyebrow.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: The Manny

I came-to around two in the morning, feeling rather . . . distant. "Hello?" I asked the darkness around me. "Derek?"

He replied with a long snort and, "Damn Chihuahua." I assumed, since there wasn't a small rat-like dog in the room, that he was asleep. I figured he needed it after acting as my impromptu Slurpee.

I went downstairs to the kitchen again, but had no intention of ending my existence this time. When I saw that the mess I had surely made trying to cut my brain out was gone, I felt a rush of gratitude toward Derek. After all, it had to have been him, since anyone else who had seen the knife and lots, and_ lots_ of blood on the ground would have run screaming and woken everyone up to check who had the knife wounds. When my hair fell into my eyes as I was inspecting the tile for small scarlet stains, I noticed that it too had been cleaned; my hair, that is. I had to hand it to him; Derek was great at getting rid of the evidence. I felt guilty that he'd had to do it all by himself, though.

I ran my tongue over my teeth and found that my canines were protruding again. I told myself that it would get better with time; my cravings would get to be less frequent. I accused myself of lying.

I opened the fridge, hoping to find some raw meat or something. It was my lucky day, well . . . in this respect, anyway. Inside the bottom left-hand drawer was a nice, juicy, uncooked slab of cow. It was pure luck that the people in charge of it before it came to Lyle House hadn't exactly done an exemplary job at draining it. Because of that fact, I knew that the red juice dripping from it was _not_ albumen, as it most often is, but was, indeed, rich, crimson, blood.

As I took it from the refrigerator and opened the bag, I hoped against hope that no one would think it suspicious when they couldn't find what was most likely supposed to be tonight's dinner.

I ripped pieces off, one by one, and drained them of the sweet and salty liquid. Unfortunately, when I was finished, I didn't know what to do about the bits of raw, unflavored jerky that were left. I couldn't very well eat them without them coming right back up again, along with the rest of the contents of my stomach. I couldn't throw them away, 'cause they would start to rot and stink so bad that everyone would know exactly where they were. I couldn't go outside; I didn't know the security code.

"Damn it, Grace! Do _not_ scare me like that! I thought you were going to scoop your brain out with a spoon!" Derek looked furious with me, not so much scared anymore, I was glad for that, but I still didn't appreciate being yelled at, even if he was keeping his volume down.

"I was hungry. Would you rather I maimed you in your sleep? I can do that next time if you'd prefer. And what do you mean 'with a spoon?' There are plenty of kniv-" There weren't plenty of knives. It looked like someone had baby-proofed the kitchen. Or suicidal-vampire-proofed it. I sighed. "I'm not interested in ridding myself of a brain any longer; you can put the knives back. It's bound to look suspicious if they're all missing in the morning." He looked like he wanted to believe me, but didn't.

"What's that?" He gestured at the bag of dry meat in my hand, trying to change the subject.

"Actually, I need your help with this. I can't figure out a way to dispose of it. I can't eat it. You saw what happens if I try to eat actual food." He nodded. "And I can't throw it away because someone would suspect something when they smelled it and found it in the trash. What do we do?"

"I know the code. We can throw it away outside." I was pleasantly surprised.

"Oh. Okay. Let's go." I started walking. I hadn't gone two feet when he caught me by the shoulders and pulled me back.

"Wrong way."

I blushed. Or rather I would have if I had any color left in my body.

"Oh. Okay. Let's go . . . the other way." I pointed in the right direction and started walking _that_ way. He followed me.

He punched in the code at the entryway and opened the door. I half expected sirens to blare and the nurses to come running; they didn't, thankfully. We walked about a block, and dumped the Ziploc into a dumpster by an abandoned factory; there were a lot of them in the area.

"Thanks," I told him, once I was rid of the dry meat. "For everything, I really can't tell you how much I appreciate it. You didn't have to do any of it and . . . you did. Thank you." I'd never felt comfortable expressing my gratitude using more than one sentence before. I t just came across as kind of sappy in my opinion. By the look on his face, Derek wasn't any more at ease with it than I was.

He shrugged and just said, "No prob'em." As much as I would have liked to leave it at that, I felt guilty, letting him just pass it off as "No prob'em."

"Yes, problem. I know it wasn't easy for you, and it must have sucked, that after all you did for me, I tried to take my brain out. Pretty ungrateful of me, huh? I'm sorry for that; for everything else too.

"'S okay, just don't expect it every night."

I laughed. A humorless laugh. "Don't worry, I won't."

"Grace, you're not gonna try to kill yourself again as soon as I turn my back, right?"

"I'm already dead, aren't I?"

"You know what I mean," he growled.

I hesitated. For too long, apparently.

"Grace!"

"Keep it down, you're gonna wake the neighborhood up."

"Answer me."

"I don't want to die," I admitted. "But I don't want anyone else to either. I don't know what to do."

Derek looked supremely uncomfortable.

"What? What are you thinking?" I asked him.

"I was thinking that this is why vampires have covens. They feed off each other so that they don't end up killing everyone around them."

"I need to escape don't I? So I can find a coven?"

"Yes. But not yet."

"Why?" It seemed like the sooner the better to me.

"Because . . ."

"Because . . .?"

"Because I don't want you to, okay?" He snapped the words. I could tell he was furious with himself for not being rational and logical about the situation. "Besides, Old Nick is probably looking for you . . ." He trailed off. I could tell that the last part was just an excuse to cover up what he'd just said.

"Stop walking," I told him.

He looked at me suspiciously, but obeyed.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. I knew the only way I was going to get though this was to stop thinking and just dive head first into this. So that's what I did.

I put my hands on his shoulders and stood on my tip-toes. I pushed myself up and pulled him down. And put my lips to his.

I didn't know how long it lasted; I could have been a few years older by the time the kiss broke for all I knew. Good lord, it was hard to resist his blood.

"Bye," I whispered and turned away.

He grabbed my wrist. "You think you can get off that easy, huh?"

He had me in a vise grip and kept me right beside him all the way back to Lyle House. No matter how much I complained, he wouldn't let go.

It was only about three o'clock in the morning; we had a lot of time left before the nurses came to wake us up.

"What do we do now?" I asked when we were back in my room sitting on the bed. The warm blankets and comforters no longer held any appeal to me. I didn't feel the cold, or any need to sleep; but I guessed that Derek felt both. "You can go to sleep and I'll just . . . watch."

He snorted a laugh. "Yeah. 'Cause that won't be weird at all, have a suicidal slash homicidal vampire watching me sleep. It's almost as good as a lullaby." The biting sarcasm in his words hurt a little. And I guess it showed, because he apologized.

"You need sleep and I _can't_ sleep. If you don't sleep as long as I don't then you'll be miserable."

"I'll ask Simon to look after you tomorrow night."

"I don't need a babysitter. I need to get out of here. And if Old Nick catches up with me, fine; at least that'll keep me from hurting anyone."

"And that attitude is exactly why you need a babysitter. You're suicidal, and I don't want you to die."

"I can't."

"Grace!" He shook me, and I swear I could hear my brain rattle in my head. "You know what I mean! You're not listening to me. Killing yourself is a selfish thing to do; and I'd never forgive myself if you did. Got it? Have I finally drummed that into your thick skull? It's self-centered and _stupid!_"

"Crap." I furiously wiped the tears from my cheeks. I didn't want to do this in front of him. "Look what you did. You made me leak." I laughed bitterly. It wasn't his fault, but my silly pride wouldn't let him know the real reason. Wouldn't let him know how helpless I felt, how dependent on him I'd become within the last twelve hours. I didn't even know how to begin to handle this. All I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sob until I finally passed away. Well, all I really wanted to do was massacre everyone in the city, but the crying and dying was second on the list.

"I'm not sorry. You needed to hear that."

I looked at the determined set of his jaw and his intense eyes. I leaned into his chest; I drew back fast, realizing that being that close to his heart beat wasn't a good idea. When I was that close it felt like I was in a particularly loud night club. I could even feel his pulse vibrating through me.

"Do you need more?" he asked me.

I didn't need to inquire as to what he meant. "Do you think you can handle it?"

"I regenerate faster than most people."

I was reluctant to take anymore of his blood, but I decided that this was better than killing everyone as soon as I couldn't control myself anymore. So I nodded.

We went through the same process again. Bite, ouch for Derek, slurp, ouch for Derek, slurp some more, double ouch for Derek, will myself to let go, ouch for Derek again, and awkwardness.

"Do you need sleep?"

"No, I'm fine," he replied. He was lying. His eyelids drooped and his muscles went limp.

"Rest. I promise I won't try to kill myself without giving you twenty four hours notice." I'd meant it as a rather morbid joke. Apparently it was too morbid to be funny at all.

"I'm not gonna sleep. I don't need to and . . ." He yawned for at least a full ten seconds before finishing. "I need to watch you."

"I will physically knock you out if that's what it takes. Now _snooze_."

"Just for a few minutes." He was out cold before his head hit the pillow.

_Now what? Just watch him sleep until morning?_ As creepy as that was, yes. That was exactly what I wanted to do. I laid down and took his huge hand in my small one. I traced the lines in it until I went into almost a kind of trance-like state.

"Grace?" Rough palms rubbed against my shoulders, trying to shake me out of my trance.

I looked over to see that my fingers were tracing patterns on the sheets. I figured that if Derek put his hand under mine the patterns would match perfectly with the lines on his hand.

"What the . . . What happened? I thought you said vampires didn't sleep."

"When the thirst gets too bad, or if they're confined to a small space they'll . . . basically go into hibernation until they have a reason to come back to reality. I wasn't sure I'd be able to get you back."

I frowned. Slowly I was starting to remember what had happened last night. I had watched him, I had traced his hand, and I had . . .

I snatched up his right hand. There was a faint red line on his thumb, and dried blood surrounded it. I groaned. "No, no, no."

"'S fine. I woke up with it; no one even had to tell you to stop."

I put my hands to his face, checking to see if he was clammy or had a fever. "Are you okay? Do you feel alright? Did I take too much? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm-"

"Sorry. Yeah, I got that. I said it's fine."

I sighed and swallowed, relieved. I could have killed him, but I didn't. That was when it hit me. I _swallowed_. The saliva didn't stick in my throat making me gag, and it didn't cause my esophagus to ache with longing. I was actually relatively satisfied; of course I was still parched and plagued with this damned unquenchable thirst, but what else was new? At least all it felt like now was I'd gone without water for two or three days. I didn't feel like I was in danger of massacring anyone at the moment. So I took advantage of it.

Looking back I realize that he probably thought I was trying to kill him, for as soon as I vaulted myself out of the space on the bed that I was currently inhabiting and launched myself at him his arms flew up to protect his face and we both fell off the bed. My lips met his with an angry passion and sense of urgency. I didn't know when I would feel this kind of relief from my craving again.

As soon as he figured out that I _wasn't_ attacking him, (well I was, just not in the way he thought) his lips started move with mine. If either of us were a hundred percent human we probably would have been bruised all over by the way we were greedily grasping at each other. I found out that day that feeding wasn't the only outlet for my vampire violence. I probably scratched up his back pretty badly, but at the time neither of us noticed. I'm not sure who's tongue violated the others mouth first. Probably mine. I think Derek was still a little surprised, possible even a bit nervous that I'd decide that sucking blood was more fun than sucking face. My hands started to wander down to the hem of his shirt.

"Damn it!" I shouted. "Damn it! Shit!" The thirst was back and I had to get away from him quickly before I did something I would regret. "I'm sorry Derek. I really am. But I'm thirsty again, and I don't want to hurt you."

He shrugged and cleared his throat awkwardly. "I didn't expect that," he said quietly. "Any of that."

I chuckled softly and I gradually worked myself into a fit of unrestrained laughter. It wasn't that funny, but by this point it was either laugh or cry. Well, I'd already cried.

"What's so funny?" he asked me and tried to steady me because I was doubled over and shaking with laughter.

"Absolutely . . . nothing," I said, trying to catch my breath, only to realize there was no breath to catch. "But this . . . is better than the alternative." And as hard as I tried to fight it a single tear rolled down my white ice-cold cheek. I wiped it away so fast my hand blurred before me. "What time is it?" I asked, smoothing my shirt and leveling my jaw with the floor.

"Almost time to get up," he answered.

I made my way over to the window and pulled back the blinds. "Holy! Oh shit!" I had gone blind and angry red sizzling blisters had started to erupt all over my skin. "What the hell-"

I felt Derek brush past me and shut the curtains in one fluid motion. "Sunlight. Did you _forget_ you're a vampire?" A hint of annoyance presented itself in his tone, but his voice was softer when he said, "Grace, are you alright?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine . . . I think. I'm still blind, but I can't feel the blisters anymore. Are they still there?"

"No."

"See, I'm okay. And- ooh! I can see again. Oh, I like being able to see. It's something that you always forget just how convenient it is until it's gone. You know-"

But I was broken off mid-rant by a sharp knock on my door. "Grace, dear, it's time to get up."

I stood frozen in shock with my jaw slack and my hands out in front of me purely because they didn't know what else to do. I shot a panicked look and Derek and hissed. "What now?"

"Sweetie, do you hear me?"

"Uhh . . ."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Darkest Powers Trilogy.**

**Author's Note: I'm SO SORRY it's taken me so long to update. I've been really busy lately and I've got a lot on my plate. I'll post the next chapter as soon as I can, but I make no promises as to when that will be. Please comment when you are finished reading. **

Chapter Seven: Another Failed Attempt

My gaze shot first to the window, then down to the alarm system rigged to it. A low whining sound escaped me as realized we were cornered. Mrs. Talbot couldn't find Derek in my room or we would have to explain _why._ I couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't get one or both of us transferred.

"Grace? Are you in-?"

"Yes! Yes. I'm here. I'm getting up," I blurted quickly when I saw the door knob start to turn.

"It's time to come down for breakfast."

Breakfast. I looked up toward the heavens and reached up to pull my hair out. I was running out of excuses for why I couldn't eat. I doubted that it would go over well if I just said, "Yeah, I'm a blood thirsty member of the undead and can't digest dry toast. No big deal." I could just see the truckload of pills they'd shove down my throat if I happened to mention that. To buy some time, I answered, "I'll be down in a moment, I just need to . . . get dressed."

"Sweetheart, I thought I told you, you don't need to get dressed for breakfast."

"Umm, I do if I'm . . . naked . . . ?" The last part kind of trailed off and ended as question.

Derek raised an eyebrow and mouthed "Naked?"

I threw my hands up in exasperation. "I don't know," I whispered, too low for Mrs. Talbot to hear me. "I had to think of something, didn't I?"

"Ah, well . . ." The voice on the other side of the door sounded supremely uncomfortable. "Get dressed and come down as soon as you can.

I let out a huge breath I didn't need and turned back to Derek. I waited until I heard her go downstairs to say, "Run. Go back to your room before anyone catches you."

"What are you going to do about breakfast? You can't afford to throw up the blood you have in your stomach, you might attack someone to replace what you lost." I shot him an offended and slightly hurt look. "Not that you'll want to," he amended. "I'm just saying, you're new to this and well . . ."

"It would be easy for me to accidently turn into a mass murderer," I finished for him.

"No, that's not what I-" He gave a heavy sigh. "Well, yes."

Trying and failing to muster up some indignation, I conceded his point. I nodded and mumbled, "I'll figure something out. You really should get back to your room; I don't want you to get in trouble."

"Yeah."

When I turned back he was gone. I didn't even hear the door close behind him. How did he do that? He never made a single noise. It had crossed my mind that it was a supernatural creature thing, but even now that I was a vampire I still clomped around like a drunken moose. My name was pure irony and nothing more.

I sat on the bed, got up, and sat back down. I realized that even though I was aware of what position I was in it didn't make any difference. My muscles were dead, they did what I told them to, but whether they were contracted or otherwise didn't seem to matter anymore. It was nice to know I'd never be uncomfortable again, on the other hand, I thought I'd miss the warm sensation of relaxing onto a soft mattress and pulling the comforter up to my neck. That was the other thing I'd noticed, I hadn't been hot or cold since I'd died. Would I never again get to sigh in contentment as a hot cup of cocoa with a mountain of whipped cream slid down my throat on a cold day? I supposed not.

I paced the room once. Twice. A third time. What to do about the breakfast dilemma? Actually _eating_ was out of the question as Derek had said. Mrs. Talbot would start force feeding me if I dodged another meal. Maybe I could slip bits of my food in my napkin and throw it away? Sure it was a big waste of food, but no more than if I ate it and it came right back up. As I circled the room once more the window caught my eye again. Yes, there was a lock, but could I break it? Yes, it had an alarm, but could I outrun my pursuer? Or maybe break the alarm? I edged closer to the sill, staring at the little box that would alert the whole building if anyone tried to escape. _I could give it a shot. I could find a coven. I wouldn't have to deal with goodbyes._ My eyes started swimming when I thought of never seeing Derek again, leaving him wondering what happened to me and if I was okay. _He'd forget you eventually,_ hissed a little voice in the back of my head. _He'll go on with his life as if you were never a part of it and you'd all be better off in the end._ I couldn't quite bring myself to disagree. I had promised him I wouldn't try to kill myself, I couldn't ever remember saying anything about breaking out.

I put on a long hoodie and made sure all my skin was covered and in a blur of motion I had smashed the box and yanked up the window, splitting the lock as I did so. The alarm wailed and I hopped down onto the roof and pushed off from the gutters. I looked behind me to see Ms. Van Dop bursting out the door talking frantically on the phone.

". . . running towards the street . . . yes, I see her now . . . No, just . . . Get over here now!"

_Time to go._ I ran as fast as I could and looked over my shoulder one last time. I saw the faces of the other residents of Lyle House through the windows, their mouths agape as I picked up speed. One particular angry face caught my attention. Derek scowled at me and I saw him move toward the door. I was sprinting while I watched this unfold, and in hindsight I realize this might not have been my smartest decision. I ran into a stop sign at seventy miles per hour and rolled several yards before coming to a halt upside down and dazed hung over a chain-link fence like freshly cleaned laundry draped over a clothes line.

A police cruiser came zipping around the corner and the hood of my sweatshirt fell off, leaving my face exposed to the sun. I felt the sizzle of my flesh as the light seared it. I cried out in pain and my feet came over my head as I tried to protect myself from the loathsome torturous glow that was daylight. I started to fall, but the loop in back of my pants caught on the fence. There I was, hanging in what seemed to be _the most _undignified position in the history of the world with my rear in the air and my arms madly flailing, trying to keep my sweatshirt up and down at the same time.

_Oh this is just stupid!_ I thought bitterly as a cop walked toward me, obviously not concerned that I might get away before he got to me. He took his sweet time handcuffing me and cutting off my belt loop.

"Some escape attempt, there." He said through a thick gray streaked mustache.

_Oh, just shut up,_ I wanted to say. This was embarrassing enough already. "Thanks," I muttered sarcastically.

He put me in the back of the cop car and drove me back to Lyle House. I sighed and fought off a panic attack at the sight of the too-happy-hellhole.

"Better luck next time, Kiddo," he said jovially, yet insincerely as he led me back inside the house full of warm bodies loaded with blood. If he only knew . . .

"Thank you officer," Van Dop snapped as she gave me a cold glare that, for a minute, made me forget I could snap her neck with my pinky finger. "I'm sure it won't happen again." Jeez, that woman was the ice queen. The presence of Miss Van Dop made the temperature of any room drop several degrees. Though I could not feel hot and cold anymore, I shrank beneath her gaze and felt the urge to rub invisible goose bumps from my arms.

When she persisted in trying to pierce my soul with the icicles shooting from her eyes, I mumbled a non-committal response and tried to slip away. I didn't get far before-

"Grace, what the hell were you thinking?" The deep rumble of Derek's voice assaulted me as I put my foot on the first step of the staircase. My shoulders slumped and I hung my head.

"I wasn't," I sighed, resigning myself to the serious angry rant that was coming.

"You said you would figure something out! This is not _figuring it out!_ This is being reckless and irresponsible. This is being _stupid!_ I knew I shouldn't have let you out of my sight. I should have seen this coming. You don't _think_ before you act. Can't you at least _tell_ me before you're going to do something _completely idiotic?_"

"I don't plan on being an idiot," I said bitterly. "It just seems to come naturally."

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm down. "That's not what I said. It's just-"

"What you implied," I finished for him. It's not like I was disagreeing, I knew how stupid I was being, how careless. I just didn't think he fully understood my situation; at this point it wasn't _if _I was going to kill someone, it was _when._ The cold hard truth was that it was only a matter of time unless I found a coven ASAP.

He clenched and unclenched his fists before saying, "I . . . Just don't do it again. Okay?" It wasn't really a question, and normally I didn't like being told what to do, but he was right. I needed to really think this through before my next attempt. I couldn't afford to get caught again and have extra surveillance put on me.

"Got it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go upstairs and ensure that everyone in the house lives to see tomorrow and hope that no one will make the mistake of knocking on my door."

I took another step up and was stopped by a giant hand coming down on my shoulder. I could feel the thud-thud of his heavy pulse. I quickly brought my hand to my face wiped away the drool that was starting to drip from the corner of my lips. I jerked my shoulder away to prevent further embarrassing excess salivation. Derek seemed the think the harsh motion was directed at him and took a small step back before crossing his arms over his chest and saying, "You're hungry. You need . . ." He glanced around and spotted Van Dop not too far away. "You need . . . sustenance," he said finally. "Let me come up with you and I'll help with that."

"I'm not hungry," I snapped. I'd never told a bigger lie in my life. "I don't need what you're offering."

"You _are _hungry. I can tell."

"Oh yeah," I sneered. "You can _tell_? How?"

He looked uncomfortable. "When you're hungry . . . you get . . ." He looked at me with a weary expression and I could see where he was going with this.

I thought back to when I was human, when I used to get hungry for actual food. By the time I was twelve I had finally been able to see a pattern. There was something that happened every time I'd go without food for too long; I'd get rather . . . "bitchy," I finished for him. I smiled slightly, oddly comforted by the fact that some things didn't change after I'd died.

He shrugged. "Well . . . yeah."

I nodded and reached out my hand. Derek's eyes narrowed and after a moment he slowly took mine in his. It completely covered mine; I couldn't even see a sliver of my own skin under his huge meaty hand. I led him up to my room and he sat down. I took out a shirt from my closet that Gel had packed for me even though I'd told her how much I hated it over a million times. I tore off the bottom to use as a tourniquet. "Take your belt off," I instructed.

He looked somewhat taken aback and said, "What?"

"You might want to bite down on something. I imagine having vampire fangs gnawing on your arm hurts just a little bit."

"Right." He slid the belt through the loops and stuffed it in his tight jaw. I knew he enjoyed this about as much as having his liver cut out with a plastic spoon, but his discomfort was worth the lives of all the people downstairs.

"Sorry about this," I whispered.

"Don't mention i- Ugh." He winced as my fangs pierced the skin of his arm. I was gaining a modicum of self control, but if anything I was getting hungrier as time wore on. Very soon I was going to need more than he could give me.

"Grace! Grace! Stop! We've got company," I heard Derek whisper urgently.

I reluctantly lifted my head from the two gushing holes in his arm and tied the shirt scrap tightly around it. "Do I have blood on my face?" I asked.

He grimaced. "Just a little right . . ." He pointed to the corner of his mouth and I wiped away the red spot. "Yeah. You got it."

"Grace Everlowe?" came a small unfamiliar voice from the other side of the door. There was quiet knock. "Grace, are you in there?" Another knock. My heart would have been pounding had it still worked.

_What do I do? Do I answer her? How do I explain Derek?_ These questions were rendered moot however when a small woman slowly opened my bedroom door.

"Umm . . . are you Grace?"

"Yes?" I said, my answer sounding more like a question than a reply.

"And you must be . . . I'm sorry, I'm not good with names."

"Derek," he rumbled. "I was just . . ." He motioned toward the door.

"Nonsense. I'm sure Grace could use some company right about now. That's actually why I'm here."

My brows furrowed and I gave her a suspicious look. "Umm, sorry, but . . . What does that mean?"

"Well, I've been notified that you tried to escape earlier today and Dr. Davidoff has requested my services."

I raised my eyebrows as if to say, _And your services are . . . ?_ But I had this sinking feeling that told me I already knew.

"I've been asked to make sure this unfortunate piece of history does not repeat itself. I'm going to be accompanying you wherever you go."

"And who is this Dr. Davidoff, may I ask?" I was getting nervous and I could hear her words echoing in my head and the implications they held. _"I'll be accompanying you everywhere you go." No more blood._

"You don't know who Dr. Davidoff is?" she asked incredulously. "Derek, surely you know who he is. Could you tell Miss Everlowe?"

Derek's head snapped to look at her. He had been staring at the door like if he just focused hard enough he could teleport to the other side. He glanced over at me and quickly explained, "He's at the top. He ultimately decides who comes to and leaves Lyle House. May I leave?" He was fidgeting and his fists were unclenching and clenching rapidly.

A slight frown marred her pretty young face, but she said. "Sure. It should be about lunch time now."

Derek left and as he was going out the door I saw the muscles in his arm jump. I wondered what was wrong, but I didn't have time to dwell on it because the small young woman shut the door behind him and turned to face me.

"I'm sorry. You must be wondering who I am."

I nodded.

"My name is Julia Stevens. I'm a nurse and am currently working with one of the top psychiatrists in the state. I'm a caretaker for . . ." She floundered for a word and finding none, I jumped in to help.

"Nutcases?" I offered.

She smiled warmly. "I was going to say the mentally unstable, but I was afraid I might offend you."

"And it's definitely not a good idea to offend a nutcase."

She laughed but said, "First thing I want you to understand is you are not a nutcase. You have a very destructive disease that, with proper treatment, can be managed and controlled. You just need some help getting to the point at which you can take care of it on your own."

"Right, whether I want that help or not."

"Well . . ." She looked at me apologetically. "Yes." She came over and sat next to me on the bed. "I want to make this as painless as possible. I want to help not hurt, okay?"

I nodded and mumbled a, "Sure."

"Hey, I mean it. I want you to grow up and lead as normal a life as you can." I looked up at her youthful face. Her bright blue eyes were wide and sincere. Her bubblegum pink lips were pursed and her light blonde hair was falling down where it was too short to be pulled back into the ponytail holder at the back of her head.

"Why do you want to help me?" I asked her. She looked maybe twenty three; I didn't even think she was old enough to be a nurse. Surely she had better things to do with her time. She was young and attractive; she must have had friends, maybe even a boyfriend. So why was I supposed to believe she had taken a personal interest in me?

"Because I was where you are once, and I wish I'd had someone to help me understand it wasn't my fault."

I seriously doubted she had been _right_ where I was, but I didn't say anything, just nodded. I knew the question I was about to ask probably was considered rude, but I wondered if maybe she had been closer to my situation than I had originally thought. "What did you have?"

She looked a little taken aback at my bluntness, but answered, "Dissociative personality disorder. I essentially had two personalities in one body. Her name was Abby Fleming. My psychologist eventually helped me work through it, but it took some time, and I can still feel her occasionally. I know she's not real though, now, and that makes all the difference in the world."

I studied her face. No, she just had a case of the crazies; there was nothing supernatural about her. Before I knew what I was doing I had stopped studying her face and my gaze had traveled down the pulsing vein in her neck. The room was silent I just sat, listening to the steady _thud-thud_ of her very much alive heart. I could almost feel the vibrations in the bed, the infinitesimal movements of sheets created by the way she moved when she breathed caught my eye and I started moving forward toward her.

"I . . . I'm going to get some lunch. I'll be back shortly. I would like you to accompany me downstairs and wait in the rec. room for me." She tugged self consciously at her shirt collar and she swallowed hard. I could smell a faint hint of fear emanating from her. I looked away guiltily and to make her more comfortable I walked out the door first so she didn't worry about me attacking her from behind. I hoped I would find Derek in the entertainment room so I could talk to him while Julia was eating so we could have some privacy. Escaping had just become ten times more difficult, and I supposed I brought that on myself. Obviously jumping out the window and making a run for it wasn't an option, and I really needed Derek's help if I was ever going to get out of Lyle House. Sure, I could've just slaughtered my way through the building and made a break for it, but the whole point of putting distance between Lyle House and me was to save everyone.

And so the billion dollar question was . . . What now?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Epiphanies

I turned the corner and walked into the rec. room. Sure enough there was Derek. "Hey," I said as casually as I could.

"Hey."

"Why'd you run out of there so fast?" I asked as I sat beside him. I might have been imagining things, but I swear he shifted away as my hip brushed his.

"Muscle ache, I'm not getting enough exercise here. I needed some Tylenol, that's all." He still looked as though he was somewhere else and he fidgeted in his seat.

"That's not all though, is it?" It wasn't really a question, but I wanted to give him the opportunity to deny it if he didn't want to tell me.

"I haven't really been spending any time with Simon," he said as he looked out the window to watch Simon shoot hoops without him. Tori was on the side of the court, stalking him like a lion does an antelope.

"We can go outside if you want," I offered.

"I heard Mrs. Talbot talking. Your outside time privileges have been revoked."

I stuck out my lip in a pout. No matter how immature it was, all I wanted to do was stomp my foot and whine about how this was SO unfair. "You could invite him in here," I tried.

His lips made a thin line, and he refused to look at me. "It's fine," he muttered quickly. "I'll catch him later."

I raised my eyebrows, and moved so that he had no choice but to look me in the eyes. I looked at his face for a minute before the realization hit me. Slowly, I said, "You don't want me near your brother. You're afraid I'll hurt him." When he didn't answer me, I added, "Or worse."

His jaw tightened, but this time he held my gaze. "Yes," he confirmed. "I am."

Offended, I stood up and started to walk away. If he didn't want me around then I'd stay away; I wouldn't get to spend much time with him alone anyway with _Julia_ around.

"Grace, you're a _v_ . . ." He lowered his voice. "_A vampire_," he finished. "Of course I don't want you around my family. Simon's all I have and it would be insane for me to risk his life by bringing you into it."

My eyes started tearing up. Of course, he was right. It would be incomprehensibly stupid for him to let his one and only brother anywhere near me. I could lose it and drain him in two seconds flat, I was sure. For me to hear him say that, though, it hurt. To know that he didn't trust me, that I shouldn't even trust myself, that I was a monster. "You're right," I told him, my voice barely audible. "You're absolutely right." My voice shook and I turned away before he could see the water dripping from my lashes.

"Grace?" I heard Julia call. I walked toward her voice.

"Grace . . ." I wanted to cut him off, tell him that I had to go, but I just looked at him, waiting for him to finish. He didn't.

"There you are." Julia smiled at first me, then Derek.

"I'm right where you told me to be," I said, flashing my best good girl smile. When she looked slightly unnerved however, I shut my mouth quickly wondering if my fangs were starting to protrude.

"Will you accompany me to Dr. Gill's office Grace?"

She phrased it like a question, but everyone in the room knew I didn't have another choice. "Sure." I gave her a _close lipped_ smile and followed her obediently to the open office.

Julia sat in Dr. Gill's chair and pulled another so that it was right next to her. "I just wanted to go over the rules of the house with you."

"I've already gone over these with Mrs. Van Dop," I informed her.

She smiled patiently. "After your escape attempt the rules for you have been adjusted." She shoved a pair of bubblegum pink glasses up over her button nose and looked down at the piece of paper she held. "Your free time is now to be spent inside. You're not to be left in your room unattended. . ."

"Sorry to interrupt, but what about when I'm sleeping?"

"Oh." She glanced back down at the list and beamed up at me as she said, "I'll be taking the other bed in your room."

"You're going to be sleeping with me?" My gut clenched and writhed. What if I attacked her? How the hell was I supposed to feed if she even _slept_ with me?

"Yep, we're gonna be roomies. Anyway, you'll be eating with me instead of with the other children. Dr. Davidoff thinks it's a good idea to limit your exposure to the other patients, don't want you putting any ideas into other people's heads. Don't tell anyone, but personally I don't think it's a good idea to virtually put you in solitary just because you didn't want to be here. You should be with the other kids so that you have a reason to want to be here. Friends can really help you when you're going through hard times like these.

"You'll still be taking classes with the other kids, and you can spend time with anyone that stays inside during your free time, but you'll be supervised." She took off her little pink glasses and sighed as she looked at me. "One more thing. They didn't tell me to say this, this is all me. I know you're holding back around me, Grace. I know you're not being yourself. I wanted to tell you that anytime you have a completely god-awful day and just need to vent, I want you to come to me. I want you to come to me and whine and moan and scream at me. I truly believe that it is terribly unhealthy to keep that emotion bottled up, especially for someone like you. What you say to me in these times is one-hundred percent confidential. I'm not your therapist, and I'm not your mother, I'm your friend." She leaned back in her chair and exhaled. "Lord knows you need one right now."

I couldn't begin to explain how confused I was at that moment. If not for the fact that she was a Lyle House employee and was, therefore, evil by association, I think I would have liked her. She seemed to really want to help me and I would have appreciated that if she wasn't going about it all wrong. "Thank you," I told her, and I meant it. I was actually seriously considering doing what she told me I could, even telling her the truth, but I know she wouldn't believe me. Even if she did, she had a history of poor mental health; they'd just lock her up too. She seemed too nice a person for me to do that to her. "Is that all?"

She flashed those beautifully white exceedingly average shaped teeth in a sweet smile. "Yes." Though, when I started to get up she added, "However . . ."

I turned back and heard my stomach growl as it twisted in thirst. I cringed and asked, "Yes?"

"Wherever you're going I must come with you."

I sighed. "Right, I'm . . . uh . . . going . . ." Where was I going?

"You haven't had lunch yet. Let's go to the kitchen, I'm sure there's some left over vegetable casserole."

Panicking whilst searching for an acceptable lie I spluttered, "I'm not . . .hungry."

"I know. Casserole . . ." She wrinkled her nose to show me she shared my distaste. "But it's all they seem to have right now. Trust me, I asked if there was an alternative."

"No, it's not that. I . . ." Come on, _think!_ _How can you get out of lunch?_ I appreciated that Julia realized that the cooking here was a form of cruel and unusual punishment, but veggie casserole wouldn't have been appetizing when I was _alive_, and now that I wasn't . . . ugh, there were no words. "Food allergies," I blurted triumphantly, rather proud that I was able to think of that when so many things were running around in my noggin at once.

"Oh, well let's go look in the pantry. I think I saw some granola bars in there earlier." And with that she clapped her hands together as she brushed past me through the office door, making her way toward the kitchen.

We got the granola bars and I innocently suggested that we go up to my . . . er . . . _our_ room. She agreed that after that morning's events it might be best if I have a little bit of "cool down" time in my room.

I walked extraordinarily slowly down the hall and up the stairs "eating" as I went. I tore off half inch blobs of my granola bar at a time flattening them with my fingers and surreptitiously slipping them into my bra until I could safely dispose of them. Hopefully Julia wasn't paying enough attention to notice that my now granola filled chest was suspiciously bigger than it was only a few minutes before. By the time we reached the top step I had hidden approximately seven eights of my snack. Before I reached my door I hurriedly squished the last of it between my palms and stuffed it in my pocket.

We sat on our beds and Julia looked at me quizzically and inquired as to where my food went. As an answer I held up the empty wrapper and told her I was going to bathroom to throw it away. "Alright, just don't be too long or I have to come looking for you, okay?"

"Got it," I answered. "I'll be quick." I ran to the bathroom and disposed of the wrapper while shaking out my overfilled undergarment, and my, now very sticky, pocket. I dusted the oat dust and chocolate off my chest and threw some wadded toilet paper in the trash so the unfinished snack food would not be visible to anyone who happened upon them. I ran some cold water from the bathroom sink and splashed it on my face. I couldn't feel it; I supposed that was probably because my body temperature was now so cold that the water was probably the same temperature as my skin. I tried hot water, and felt a shadow of a sensation as the liquid hit my ridiculously tense face. I swished the water around in my mouth hoping to sooth my aching gums, but the only thing I achieved was triggering my gag reflex and I spit it out quickly before I had a serious mess to clean up.

There was only one thing I loved about being a vampire. In the time since my death I'd discovered that since I did not eat and did not drink anything other than blood, and that was absorbed into my system, I no longer had any use for a toilet. I'd always thought of using the bathroom as a waste of time anyway. So I looked at the porcelain bowl with distain and walked out the restroom door.

"I'm back," I informed Julia as I closed the door behind me. She gave me a small smile, but held up her finger in a shushing motion and pointed to the flip phone she held against her ear.

"Uh-huh . . . Yes . . . No, I'll tell her . . . We'll be waiting . . . You too . . . I'll see you soon, Dr." She closed the phone and grinned at me. "Dr. Davidoff wants to meet you. He wants to gauge your progress himself." When she saw my worried look she said, "It'll be fine. You'll do great!" But she wouldn't look at me as she said this. "We should head down to Dr. Gill's office again. That's where we'll be meeting him." She hopped off the bed and led the way down the steps; no doubt worrying that if I was permitted to go first I'd be as dreadfully slow going down as I was coming up.

We sat in the same almost-but-not-quite-comfortable chairs that populated the small room and Julia fiddled with the string on the blinds absentmindedly as she watched me. I drummed my fingertips against the table, trying to recall the tune of a song I had once found quite comforting, but try as I might to remember, it just wouldn't come to me. The frustration of the unremembered song kept me occupied until I heard the sound of a car door slam and looked out the window's sheer curtains to see a tall gray man carrying a large briefcase walking up the drive. I assumed this was the elusive Dr. Davidoff and nearly rose out of my seat to get a better look.

"Hi, Dr. Davidoff," I heard Tori say in her best impression of a pleasant, innocent youth.

"Hello, Victoria," the doctor answered her in a nice, but detached way. As the office door swung open I caught of glimpse of her smiling a sickly sweet smile that clearly didn't come across the way she intended it to. It was much too forced and there was more than a hint of desperation in her dark eyes. _Huh_, I thought. Maybe Tori and I _did_ have something in common. We'd both rather be anywhere else in the world, but here. Trapped.

"Miss Everlowe, how nice to finally meet you," he said in what seemed to be an unnatural jovial tone. "I've very much been looking forward to our meeting." Pulling up a chair so that it was uncomfortably close to mine, he said, in a more serious tone, "I heard you tried to run away this morning, would you mind telling why that is?"

He stared at me, unblinking and his bottom lip puckered in faux concern.

I would have thought the answer was obvious; or at least part of it. What teenage girl wants to be locked up in some nuthouse with a case of the crazies? But I said, "I got homesick," which was only half a lie, really. I _was_ homesick; I just neglected to mention that _home_ is not where I had intended to go.

"Grace, honey," I cringed at the term of endearment. "As soon as you get better you _can_ go home. Even better, you can have a normal life with your sister and your friends-"

"What friends?" I snapped bitterly. I shouldn't have done that; I should have realized that talking like that was not conducive to convincing them that my mental health was in tip-top shape. However hard I tried though, I couldn't hide the feelings of resentment that bubbled up when Dr. Davidoff mentioned my "friends," the "friends" who denied any previous association with me once I started the change from human to undead. Of course, I didn't know what was happening to me at the time. All I knew was that for some inexplicable reason I wanted to _hurt_ them; I wanted to _bite_ them. So I would leave in a hurry, mumbling some excuse or another about being late, or forget that I all of a sudden had somewhere I needed to be. And did they ask me if I was okay? Did they ask if there was something wrong? If they could help? No. Not even close. What they did do, however, was call me a freak and a bitch and left me in the middle of the school halls, alone and desperate for an explanation about what was happening to me. Friends are supposed to help you through the hard parts, as Julia had said earlier in her office. Six weeks ago I made the shocking discovery that I never even had any friends to begin with. To summarize for the doctor I said, "They all left me. When I . . . got sick."

"And when you get better I'm sure they'll come back." He shifted toward me and held his hands palms up. I'd read somewhere that holding your hands this way is a gesture of openness and honesty, I'm sure he knew that too, but I'm pretty sure he didn't know that _I_ knew. "Illness is an awful thing, Grace. It frightens people, not only the person who is sick, but the people around them. I'm sure you friends were just scared. They didn't know what was happening to you and people in general don't like what isn't safe and familiar. When you go back to school and back to your life, you'll be right as rain and when your classmates see a smile on your face you'll have as many friends, if not _more_ than you did before. I'll bet you everyone at school misses you and hopes you're getting better. You don't want to let them down, do you? You want to stay here and work to control this illness and enrich your life."

Something he wasn't counting on was that I didn't give a damn about what the people at school were thinking about me. I didn't care if they missed me, and I didn't care if they even remembered me. I wanted out, and I wanted blood. These two thoughts were at the forefront of my mind twenty-four-seven and everything else was unimportant. This guy wasn't going to keep me here, no matter how many people he said were counting on me, not even if he brought up Gel, who he was sure to get around to sooner or later.

"And your sister . . ." _Here we go._ "Angelica misses you. She wants you back. She's heartbroken that you tried to escape this morning. She wants you to get better and before that starts to happen she can't visit. Do you know how hard that is on her?"

He seemed to be waiting for answer, but before I could think of the right thing to say his phone buzzed, causing us all to jump a little. "Excuse me for a moment, I need to take this. Oh, Julia, would you mind getting me some tea? I'm parched."

_Me too._

"Not at all Dr. Davidoff, but . . ." She looked sideways at me and I could discern and almost nonexistent jerk of her head in my direction.

He frowned and with his hand over the phone he whispered, "That would be very disappointing indeed if Miss Everlowe tried to leave us again, but I don't think we have to worry about that." He looked at me long and hard and lowered his tone, so that it was _almost_ threatening. "Do we?" he asked me, but it sounded like less of a question and more of an order.

I shook my head. Contrary to what Derek might think, I wasn't stupid; I wasn't going to try to run away so soon after my pathetic failed attempt that morning. I would make no promises, however, that I wouldn't use the time to plot my next crack at it.

"Good, very good." He took his hand off the phone and walked out of the room, Julia following closely behind him.

I needlessly exhaled long and hard, rubbing my temples and planning my next move. My head lolled back and I stared at the ceiling until something in Dr. Davidoff's chair caught my eye. His briefcase was just sitting there completely unprotected. Sure, it had a lock on it, but nothing a little superhuman strength couldn't fix. I snapped it up and jerked the case open to reveal a laptop. Maybe he kept the security codes for the door on this laptop. Maybe I could Mapquest a direct route to the nearest place there would likely be a coven, though I had no idea where that might be.

I opened the computer and the screen showed the doctor's desktop. I pulled up an internet window and went to Google "Vampire Covens."

Of course, I didn't find much that was useful, seeing as how most people thought vampires didn't even exist. But there was one page that upon closer inspection, seemed to really know what they were talking about.

"_The purpose of a vampire coven is to avoid human detection by feeding off one another until all the blood is gone so that there is no need to kill people and arouse suspicion. When all the blood in the group is gone, most covens will seek out a human with polycythemia vera, a blood disorder where someone has more blood than they really need and it is dangerous for said human. The human and coven form a sort of symbiotic relationship, though the human is often unaware that a coven is feeding off of them since in most cases a vampire will render its victim unconscious before feeding. Once the coven has had its fill from the human they will continue once again to drink from one another until the blood dissipates, and they will repeat this process._

_Vampires are, by nature, a solitary species, unwilling to trust. This is why there are very few actual covens and a far greater number of the undead who prefer to hunt by themselves. The few covens there are, however are in almost all cases, eager to take on new members to 'save the human race.' All vampires that are part of a coven have refrained from killing a human, for once a vampire makes its first kill they cannot go back. They will crave human blood to the point of being able to slaughter and drain the population of a small town in a single night, and if they think they can, they will._

_Coven vampires can sustain themselves on a quart a day if they must and with time their appetite diminishes and they are able to live comfortably on less. A vampire that has made its first kill cannot continue to exist if they do not make a kill at least every few days, but even then it is unlikely they will be able to survive on less than five a week._

_I think I speak for the entire human race when I say that I am a strong advocate of vampire covens and live in fear of a new vampire's first kill."_

All this article did was scare me, and reinforce my desire to escape as soon as was possible. I closed out and clicked on a file labeled "LHF." I couldn't believe he was so lax about his computer security, but for whatever reason, I guessed he didn't think anyone was going to be able to get in that briefcase.

In the file I saw several documents, but the only one I was interested in read "Grace Catherine Everlowe." I double clicked and every muscle tensed as I read what was on the screen.

"_Grace, while a worthwhile experiment seems not to be adjusting well to her new condition. Mr. Howard Smith did as we asked and infected her with vampirism, but except for an insignificant decrease in canine size we can see no apparent changes that the trial drug injected at birth has made. Grace's mother was one of the Edison Group's greatest assets and we all appreciate her donation to science, we would not have known the effects of our drug if Helen Everlowe had not given us her consent to use her daughter in the Genesis II project. However, though we hoped for decrease in appetite, a longer adjustment period and food tolerance, we have seen no evidence of any of these positive changes. It's unfortunate, if this drug had succeeded we could have provided it as an inoculation to infants all over the world as a means of enhancing and reducing negative effects of vampirism in case of accidental exposure later in life. While undeniably interesting, this line of experimentation is no longer worth pursuing, too dangerous. Subject must be terminated. The sister's mind will be wiped as will the memories of the patients or Lyle house."_

I stared blankly at the writing on the screen until the words sunk in. _Terminated . . ._

I'd seen enough conspiracy movies to know what _terminated _meant. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. Then again, I couldn't believe the whole vampirism thing was happening to me either. Did Mom really set me up to become a vampire? I couldn't think of any other Helen Everlowe. She was a doctor, and she loved her work and science came before many other aspects in her life, but I always thought Gel and I came first. How could I have been so wrong . . . ?

I looked out the window curtains again to see the brilliant light of the outdoors. I couldn't leave, there was no safe exit. I just had to wait out the meeting with my would-be killer and try to convince him I don't need to be "terminated" without letting on that I'd read my file. This wouldn't be easy.

I heard footsteps and slammed the briefcase closed trying to make the lock appear intact, and having only a modicum of success, I just had to cross my fingers that Dr. Davidoff wouldn't look too closely at the case before he left.

"I'm terribly sorry Grace, but I just received an urgent call. I must leave you, but I hope you'll remember what we talked about and I expect you to be on your best behavior from now on." He forced a smile that was meant to be kind and fatherly, I'm sure. He bent over his chair, and as his fingers brushed the suitcase lock my heart skipped a beat. Or it would have if it still did that sort of thing.

"Yes, sir," I quickly ran my tongue over my teeth to see if my fangs were out. They weren't. I flashed my most radiant, innocent smile, positive that it looked more sincere than Tori's, and added, "It was very nice to meet you, Dr. Davidoff. And you really put things in perspective for me. Thank you."

Instead of the warm smile I expected in response, he gave me a suspicious glance and nodded a farewell. I knew I had not changed his mind. He still wanted to see my brain out of my body.

As soon as he got in his car to leave I ran up the stairs before Julia found me to talk to Derek. As I passed his room I heard him talking with Simon.

"She's a _vampire,_ Derek! A _vampire_. This isn't like you. You know better than this," Simon was saying. "I mean sure, she might have been nice . . . before she _died_. She sucks blood; she sucks _your_ blood! I can't believe you're okay with this. And the fact that you _kissed_ her, you know how dangerous that was! I'm supposed to be the reckless one; I need you to ground me. I need my brother back. She's taking you away from me. How are we supposed to find Dad if you're running around with some bloodthirsty maniac? Huh? Answer me that." He waited.

"She needs help. She doesn't know what's happening to her. I'm trying to do this for you-"

"How is this for _me_?" Simon cut him off.

I heard Derek growl slightly. I was interested to know how it was for Simon too. "Do you remember what Dad said? About vampires? About the first kill?"

Simon was silent for a minute before slowly saying, "Once they kill they keep killing." I could hear the epiphany in his voice. "You were trying to keep her from killing everyone. You knew what would happen if she drained a human, and she was in a confined space with a bunch of innocent people . . . and me"

"Yes," Derek growled. "If she killed _one_ person, she'd kill them all. _We're_ all."

My eyes stung, but I still listened to their conversation.

"What about kissing her, bro? How was _that_ for my benefit?"

"Just _think_ about everything Dad told us about vampires. What happens to the people they bite?"

"They turn into a vampire if they're just bitten. If the vampire sucks on the wound the virus doesn't spread, but . . . but . . ."

Derek finished for him, "But the victim becomes connected to the vampire, creating a bond that is often mistaken for love. I'm a werewolf, so my resistance is greater, but I still feel _something _for her. If she had never have bitten me, there's a good chance the only thing I'd feel for her would be a strong desire to keep her away from everyone I know. I'm trying to figure out a way to get her out of here, I'm not going with her, and once she's gone I never want to see her again. I don't care about her, Simon. I promise."

My insides felt like they had been ripped out by an animal, and the empty chasm in my chest had been filled with ice water. He didn't care about me. He never did. The only reason he kissed me was because of some chemical or whatever in my saliva that bonded him to me. He wanted me out of his life. Well, I would oblige.

I ran to my bedroom, choking back sobs, with big, fat tears gushing down my face. Everybody hated me. People wanted to kill me. No one would miss me. Gel wouldn't even remember me.

When I opened the door, Julia was on my bed, when she saw me she stood and hurried over to me. "What's wrong, Grace? What happened?"

It crossed my mind that Julia was part of the conspiracy, that she too, was out to end my existence, but I looked at her face and there was genuine concern there. She wanted to help; she wanted to make it better.

_No, _I decided. She was just a pawn, she didn't have a clue what was really going on here.

I was in such a state that I threw my arms around her and let her hug me, let myself feel the warmth of a live body, comforting my cold, dead one.

"I'm going to die," I sobbed. "He's going to kill me."

"Who's going to kill you?" Julia asked gently.

"The Edison Group . . . Dr. Davidoff . . . He's . . . going . . . to . . . kill . . . me," I explained, in between gasping sobs.

"What? Why would he do a thing like that? And is this Edison Group?"

I cried harder. I didn't want to get her in trouble. I didn't want her to start asking questions that might get her "terminated."

"And Derek hates me!" I howled, instead. "He wants me out of his life forever and I thought he cared about me. I thought he liked me."

"Oh, Grace. Teenage love can be so hard. But you'll be okay, you'll see."

I looked up and her encouraging sad smile and nodded solemnly, like what she was saying actually applied in this situation. I tried to calm down as we sat on my bed and she held me next to her. I focused on the slow steady sound of her breathing, on the strong even beating of her young healthy heart . . . pumping her crimson salty blood to all the different parts of her body . . . those parts of her body that were covered in her soft, delicate skin . . . it would be so easy . . .

I looked up at her neck, at the imperceptible movement in her skin that meant the liquid I so desired was racing through her jugular, through her carotid artery. All I had to do was move maybe an inch closer, a distance I could cover so fast she wouldn't even see it. I would open my mouth and it would all be over before she even felt any pain. It would be quick . . .

I shifted my weight toward her and in an instant I was on top of her and my teeth were in her throat. And her blood was in my mouth. And it tasted like . . . _life._ And then . . . it didn't.

I pulled back from my meal comfortably full. I looked down at the figure before me. She was white. I reached out a shaking hand to touch her. There was no pulse. There was no blood. She was dead.

I blinked once.

She was a good person.

Twice.

And I killed her.

A third time.

And I didn't care.

I got up and walked to the desk and sat down, leaving the lifeless body sprawled on the red-stained mattress. She didn't even have time to scream. No one knew what had happened . . . yet.

I grabbed this journal and started to write on the first few pages I saved for just such an occasion.

Dear Gel,

I doubt you will ever read this, for the organization I've come to know as the Edison Group will most likely have found this journal and hidden it away before you can get to it. If by some miracle, you find it first, however, I need to tell you something. Everything.

The rest of these pages are filled with a detailed description of the events that took place while I was away at Lyle House. You _must_ _read_ this journal. If they haven't already, the Edison Group will try to erase your memory of me, don't ask me how, I do not know. You must not let them do this. You need to know the truth: vampires exist and they are dangerous and- Oh, a drop of blood just fell on the page. Oh well, you can read around it- Anyway, they're dangerous and they'll kill you, and you need to be careful. Please trust me; I know this, because as you will read later I already killed one person, and if the Edison Group doesn't stop me I will kill again. You will probably not believe what I am writing, I'm sure this is all much too fantastical for you, but I assure you I'm not just your crazy little sister. Mom was working with them, with the Edison group, she let them inject me with experimental drugs and have Old Nick turn me into a vampire. You have to believe-

"Grace?" Mrs. Talbot called, knocking to make sure her presence was known.

The vampire at the desk looked up from her writing and without emotion called, "Come in."

The door opened slowly and Grace waited for the nurse to see what lie on the bed.

"Grace? It's time to come down for din-" She stopped as she looked at the bloodstained mattress where the body of one Julia Stevens lay contorted in a gruesome and unnatural position. Grace heard the bloodcurdling scream Mrs. Talbot let out and calmly stood in the middle of the room waiting for what was sure to happen.

The nurse kept screaming and the vampire was growing peeved as the awful high pitch continued. She contemplated killing her too just to shut her up, but she wanted the others to come, to see what she had done. She wanted Derek to see that all his effort was wasted, and she had made her first kill despite all he had done.

"Grace, what . . ." Derek Souza sprinted through the door past Mrs. Talbot and the blood slowly drained out of his face as a nauseated look came over him.

The vampire smiled at him, her red teeth and bloody lips glinting in what little light the bedside lamp provided. "You should have cared," she crooned. "You could have saved her." She gestured to the limp, grotesque form of the bed. "But you didn't _care_."

"Grace," he whispered. "No . . . you . . . you killed . . ."

"I savagely murdered her. And it tasted so good." She grinned wildly, the effect of her first kill setting in, her conscience fading faster by the nanosecond. "She was so alive. You know, I could even _taste_ how bright the girl's future was." She giggled. "Not anymore."

Derek turned, fast, as the cords of a taser whooshed past him and hit Grace right in the middle of her chest. She fell to the ground, her laughter still echoing in the cheery little room. The vampire spasmed and kicked, but eventually succumbed to the fifty-thousand volts of electricity coursing through her body. When she fell to the ground Miss Van Dop rushed forward with a syringe full of sedative, enough to put down an elephant.

Grace's vampirism kept her from becoming immobile from the taser, though, and she knocked the syringe from the nurse before it pierced her thigh.

She growled and leapt for the window, clawing at the curtains, tearing them to shreds. It was dusk now, dark enough that the sun didn't affect the rabid vampire attempting to escape to find fresh blood that wasn't trying to kill her.

"No!" Derek bellowed. He lunged forward, grabbed the syringe, and just as Grace got her torso through the window he plunged the syringe into her backside and she slumped against the sill. He pulled her back through and turned to see Simon staring wide-eyed at his brother.

"Is she . . . dead?" he asked.

"No," Derek answered. "Just knocked out." He carried her down the stairs and heard the sirens. _Someone must have called the cops when they heard the screaming_, he thought.

"What the hell is going on?" Tori demanded to know. Liz came out to ask if everyone was okay. Rae just stood outside her door and stared as Derek held the deceivingly peaceful looking Grace in his arms. Peter was nowhere to be seen, and Derek couldn't say he blamed him. Simon followed behind him closely, but still keeping a safe distance between the vampire and himself.

"Go back inside," Derek barked. "There's been a situation. It would be better if you just waited in your rooms."

"I want to know what's going on," Tori whined.

"Of course you do," Derek muttered. Louder, he said, "One of the nurses will explain when they get a chance. Now go to your damn rooms!" She made a face, but everyone did as he said.

"Put the girl down, son!" An elderly police officer burst through the door and was pointing a taser, very much like the one used on Grace, straight at Derek.

He would have protested that he had nothing to do with the nine-one-one call, be was too tired. He set the vampire on the ground at his feet and put his hands up as he stepped away. "Upstairs," he said. He tilted his head toward Grace and added quietly, "She killed a girl."

The look of shock on the officer's face was plain. After all, who would suspect the unconscious hundred-and-twelve pound girl with the innocent face over him, the huge, dark, looming, teenage guy, _carrying_ the unconscious girl? The policemen holstered his taser and ran up the stairs.

Derek, Simon, and the sleeping vampire sat in silence until the ambulance got there. Doctor Davidoff came in with the paramedics and they lifted the girl onto a gurney and strapped her down.

"Boys," the doctor addressed them. "I'm so sorry you had to see that. Grace was very unstable, and probably should have been transferred to a more secure facility earlier on. I'm going to go check on the nurses and poor Miss Stevens. I'll be back soon. If a man called Tayshawn Anderson comes in, please make him feel welcome. He's an associate of mine. Dr. Gill is unavailable, and so Dr. Anderson will be helping you all through this traumatic experience." And with that he left the brothers at the foot of the stairs.

Grace opened her eyes slowly and cringed away as the violent bright light assaulted her vision. "Where am I?" she mumbled thickly through the fog of the sedative. She tried to reach her hand up to shield her retinas from the harsh light above her, but her wrists were double cuffed to a metal table she seemed to be lying on.

"Our hospital," replied a man in scrubs and a face mask. He leaned in closer and she heard his muffled voice whisper, "You haven't been very well behaved, have you?"

"Who are you?" the vampire hissed.

He turned to a smaller metal table and picked something up as he said, with a hint of a smile behind his voice, "You can call me . . . the terminator." The buzz saw in his hand came to life as it neared the vampire's forehead.

"NO!" Grace thrashed and shrieked and extended her fangs in a futile attempt to escape her rapidly approaching final death. Blood spattered the ceiling above her as her screeches and wails tore out of her throat with such force her esophagus was reduced to something that resembled sickly, uncooked hamburger and the saw ripped through her white flesh and kicked up bits of gray matter. Grace's eyes filled with blood and she stayed awake, blind and only hearing the whir of the saw and her own screams. Finally, when the cutting was done, she heard, through the blood in her ears, the clank of the saw being put down and the lighter clink of a small instrument being picked up. A moment later she felt prodding at her brain, she felt something scrape the insides of her skull. Before she could feel anything else her brain had been disconnected from the rest of her body with an ice cream scoop and she lay there, motionless on the cold steel, her last moment of terror frozen for eternity on her face.

A phone buzzed and Dr. Kovale, the terminator, answered it after wiping the blood on his hands off on his scrubs. "This is Kovale speaking ."

"Is it done?" Davidoff asked.

"It is. And it was done with excellence, if I do say so myself."

"Good. We can send the Saunders girl in now."

"To me?" Kovale asked eagerly.

"To Lyle House," Davidoff corrected. "Perhaps, in time, you'll meet her. However, Kovale, our goal is _always_ to rehabilitate them, you'd do well to remember that."

"Sure. Oh, Anderson told me to tell you he's coming your way. A pity really, I would have loved to do some memory correction myself." Kovale caressed his scalpel with a loving hand. Stinking half-demon memory modifier got to have all the fun.

"We'd like them to live through the procedure, Doctor. Revel in your job well done tonight, you'll have your money by the end of the week."

The line disconnected and Kovale smiled at his success. He loved the way the vampire looked with the life taken from her eyes. "You're so beautiful," he whispered as he stroked the rim of her split skull. _Death is so beautiful_, he thought to himself as he continued to move his finger over her blood-stained face.

"Hey, bro."

Derek jerked his head up and looked around.

"You're not eating," Simon said. "I'm worried. I thought you said you didn't care about her anyway."

"I didn't, but . . . the vampire, victim bond . . . it's stronger than I thought. I'm still thinking about her . . ."

"That Dr. Anderson guy is supposed to 'help us through this.' We just have to wait until after dinner because apparently they want to talk to the nurses and other kids first. Best for last, huh?" He grinned, but Derek knew he was just trying to cheer him up.

"Simon, Dr. Anderson would like to speak with you," Mrs. Talbot called to him.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I guess the other appointments when faster than I thought they would." He went to the office and Derek was left alone at the table with a plate of cold vegetable casserole staring up at him.

Simon came back to the table when Dr. Anderson had finished with him and Derek immediately started interrogating him. "What did they say about Grace? Did they say where they took her?"

"What? Dude, you're not making any sense." Simon shook his head and told him, "Dr. A wants to talk to you."

Derek scowled, but decided not to press the issue; he could ask Doctors Davidoff and Anderson about Grace.

"Derek Souza?" the tall man that was introduced to Lyle House as Doctor Tayshawn Anderson asked as Derek sat in the chair opposite him.

"Yeah. Where's Grace?"

The florescent light from the ceiling glinted on the doctor's dark, bald head as he said in a slow, even voice, "Derek I want you to look at me."

The young werewolf narrowed his eyes and arched an eyebrow, but did as he was told and looked the doctor right in the eyes. He had a strange sensation that he was falling, yet he could see quite clearly that he was still in his seat in the office and was plainly _not_ moving.

"Mr. Souza? Who is Grace Everlowe?"

"Umm . . ." Suddenly Derek felt very tired and found it difficult to answer. "She's a . . . she a vampire . . ."

"No she isn't," the doctor responded swiftly with confidence."

_She isn't?_ Derek thought. _Huh_. He could have sworn she was. "She came to Lyle House," he tried.

"No she didn't," Dr. Anderson corrected him again.

_She didn't?_

"In fact," he continued, "You don't remember ever meeting anyone by the name of Grace Everlowe in your life." He sat back in his chair and surveyed the large youth in front of him. "Now, Derek, tell me about Grace."

Derek contemplated this for a minute before saying, "Grace who?"

_The End_


End file.
